
Class 'PSZBl^ r 
Bnnk X(>/^ ^j^ 

CoijyrigtrtN"__J^^ii^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Gold Gleams 

of 

Poetry 



^ 



By 

ANNIE SHIPMAN WILSON 

3017 Edmond Street 
ST. JOSEPH, MISSOURI 



COPYRIGHT APPLIED FOR 



T5 3r^<^ 
■ 111^ 



6smb/nmlini> (So. 



APR 28 1914 



©C1.A874043 






r 



DEDICATION. 



As a token of sincere love and gratitude, I herewith 
dedicate this little volume to Mrs. Ettie E. Wilson Dun- 
can, a native of Andrew County, Missouri, and a present 
resident of Axtell, Kansas. 

I dedicate this little book 
To one retired in quiet nook; 
Heroic, though her humble name 
May never sound in halls of fame. 

—A. S. W. 



PREFACE. 



The poems contained in this volume were written at 
irregular intervals during a period of more than thirty- 
years, beginning far back in school days. These verses 
are so varied as to please most any reader. Among them 
are found appropriate recitations for almost any occa- 
sion — Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Easter, Chil- 
dren's Day, etc. If something suitable is desired for 
church, lodge, school, or indeed any other place of enter- 
tainment, a careful search of these pages will never disap- 
point you. Just what you want is here. 

Through many seasons I have wrought, 
Prospecting in the minds of thought, 
These humble specimens at last 
Into my reader's hands are passed. 
Of poetry they show gold gleams, 
Their glitter sends through all my dreams 
A hope that time may yet unfold 
A shining vein of real gold. 
Accept, at present, these gold gleams. 
Let radiance of their glad beams 
Throw golden light on all life's way, 
And better, brighter, make each day. 
If, in the course of future years, 
A vein of real gold appears 
Gold gleams of poetry grown old. 
Exchange for poetry's pure gold. 



INTRODUCTION. 



When the day at last is ended, 

With its business, toil and cares 
When oblivion would free you 

From all troublesome affairs, 
When to listening stars and flowers 

Lovers true their loves rehearse; 
If you still feel worn and weary, 

Find then soothing rest in verse. 
Dearest heart, this same small volume 

Would console in such an hour; 
Closely read its humble pages. 

They may wield a magic power. 
Here's a balm for joy or sorrow. 

Nothing ill, but could be worse; 
Nothing good, but might be better, 

Find, then, soothing rest in verse. 



INDEX 



Page 

A Year Ago • ^ 

A Lost Rose H 

A Blind GirPs Dream of the Stars 11 

A Question 12 

Album Verse 12 

A Picture of You When You Were a Baby 13 

An Acrostic 1^ 

Autumn Leaves ' 14 

All About the Wash-out on the Line 15 

An Autumn Rose 17 

A Little New-Made Grave 17 

Baby 18 

Bridal Greeting 19 

Behold the Lilies 20 

By and By 21 

Cats 22 

Cupid's Freak 23 

Children's Outing 24 

Confession 25 

Claudia 26 

Christian Contentment 27 

Christmas Time 28 

Dream of a School Boy 29 

Dry Cleaning 31 

Dora 32 

Eventful Bank Check 33 

Easter Bells 34 

Ever or Never 36 

Earth's Dearest Place 36 

Extra 37 

Easter Flowers 38 

Flowers 39 

Flower Song to One Most Dear 40 

Fond Eyes Do All the Wooing — Lips Only Name the 

Day 40 

Following Christ 44 

Galveston Deluge 45 

Glittering Shams 46 

6 



Page 

Good-By 48 

Grant Thou This Prayer 49 

Gentle, Sweet Louise 50 

Golden 51 

HaUeluia 52 

Her Baby 52 

How It Happened 53 

I'll Not Care 55 

If the Waters Could Speak As They Flow 56 

Impromptu 58 

It Will Not Be Always So 59 

I Would Die For You 61 

I Want To Hear From Mamma 62 

Jus' a Little Rope Wiz Handles 63 

Just a Letter From Jack Frost 64 

Kiss and Message 65 

Life's Galilee 66 

Little Alice 67 

Little Tot's Speech on Washington 68 

Lover's Lane 68 

Look Out For the Web 69 

Love 70 

Last Friday in November , 71 

Loads and Loads of Toys 72 

Lost Opportunity 73 

Must Folks Keep Still in Heaven? 74 

My Prayer 76 

Magic Fruit 77 

My Old Rustic Home in the South 77 

New Leper Healed 78 

Next Strawberry Time 79 

No Gift to Suit 80 

You Pretty Red Automobile 81 

Our Beautiful Dead 82 

Only in Dreams 83 

Old Letters 84 

Origin of Christmas 85 

One More Star 87 

Pulling Her Tooth 88 

Practical Demonstration 89 

Play Indians 91 

Popping Corn 93 

Real Fairies 93 

Reverie During Rainfall 94 

Royal Flowers 95 

Robins 96 



Page 

Santa Claus Up-to-Date 98 

Sailing 100 

She Has Swept Through the Gates 101 

Sing To My Heart 102 

Souvenirs 102 

Story of the White Rose Tree 103 

Story of the Baby and Cat 105 

Sing the World a Song of Gladness 106 

Soap Bubbles 107 

Sparrows 107 

Taking Their Turns 109 

The Sherman Cyclone 110 

The Mustard Plaster Ill 

Through Hallowe'en Havoc to Cupid 112 

The Beautiful 117 

Take Thou My Hand 119 

That City Beyond 120 

Those Times and These 121 

The Darkest Hour 122 

There Goes a Hearse 123 

The Can on the Little Dog's Tail 125 

Twilight 126 

Tears and Rain 127 

The Waiting Time 129 

To Miss Rose Greenleaf Elliott 130 

Titan Claims Titanic 131 

Utopia 136 

Up in the Breezy Blue 139 

Unlicensed Nell 140 

Unsatisfied 141 

Unbar the Door 144 

Vase, Shell and Picture 144 

Valentines 145 

Verse Offering For Thanksgiving 147 

Where Will You Spend Eternity? 148 

Why 150 

When 151 

Waiting the Sound of Wheels 152 

What Can Hold That Sweet Bird Here? 153 

Words of Truth 154 

Where is Old Mrs. Santa Claus? 155 

Work Mixed With Play 156 

Were the Stars and Flowers Just Flirting 157 

Watching a Change of Years 158 

Wanda 159 

Worth and Beauty 160 

8 



A YEAR AGO. 
I. 

The sky is just as cloudless, 

As fresh the green below, 
As when I woke from slumber 

This morn a year ago; 
The wild birds trill as gayly 

And sweetly now as then; 
Is this not that same sweet morn 

Of springtime come again? 
No, no, this brow, then sunny 

As Heaven's face, has been 
O'ercast by clouds of sorrow. 

That morn's not come again. 
No bird voice sounded higher. 

More glad than mine rang then. 
Now low its notes, and mournful, 

That morn's not come again. 



II. 



I seek the verdant meadow, 

No choicer flowers here grow 
Than those so fair and fragrant 

This morn a year ago. 
The gem-like dew drops o'er them. 

Look just as bright as then; 
Is this not that same sweet morn 

Of springtime come again? 
No, no, blushed just as deeply 

This cheek as yon rose then, 
'Tis pale now like that lily. 

That morn's not come again. 
Pearls brighter than these dew drops 

Gleamed o'er my white robe then, 
They ill would suit this sable. 

That morn's not come again. 

III. 

The day at last is dying, 
The winds sigh just as low 



As when I heard their whispers, 

Tonight a year ago; 
The stars, too, beam as calmly 

And brightly now as then, 
Is this not that same calm night 

Of springtime come again? 
No, no, I sighed more lightly 

Than gentlest breezes then, 
None now can sigh so deeply, 

That night's not come again; 
No star that beams can rival 

Your eyes, was told me then, 
Now dull these eyes, and tearful, 

That night's not come again. 

IV. 

I steal off to the church yard. 

Its tombstones high and low, 
Look just as when I passed them 

Tonight a year ago; 
But now I pause beside one 

That did not stand here then. 
No, this is not that calm night 

Of springtime come again. 
That worshiped form so faultless, 

So fondly near me then, 
This new made grave embosoms. 

That night's not come again. 

V. 

My heart its throbbing quickened 

At each tone rich and low. 
My dear companion uttered 

Tonight a year ago ; 
That heart and all 'neath Heaven 

Held sacred by it then. 
This deep dark grave has buried, 

That night can't come again. 
Some sweet day Heaven's portals 

Shall part for me, and then. 
Bliss to enjoy forever, 

I'll clasp my own again. 



10 



A LOST ROSE. 

No one can guess, nor can language express, 

How passionately I love flowers, 
And roses, gay, dewey roses of May 

Are the dearest in all earth's bowers. 

A fresh bouquet of these beauties of May 

A friend kindly gathered for me, 
'Neath heaven 's blue dome, then I took my way home, 

My heart fairly dancing with glee. 

While on my way, from the precious bouquet 

One blushing rose loosened and fell, 
Where it was tossed, and so hopelessly lost, 

I grieve that I am powerless to tell. 

That evening cool, though my hands were quite full 

Of rosebuds and roses of May, 
Loath to pass on with one tender bloom gone, 

I lingered and sought where it lay. 

I searched in vain, fated never again 

To clasp the rare blossom I lost, 
And who can say? Did it die where it lay? 

Did no one find where it was tossed? 

Some passer-by, who, as dearly as I, 

Loves radiant roses of May, 
I hope soon found my lost gem on the ground. 

And tenderly bore it away. 



A BLIND GIRL'S DREAM OF THE STARS. 

I viewed, while sweetly I slumbered, 
The beautiful stars of the night, 

Full many of which I numbered, 
With infinite delight. 

I had oft been told of their splendor. 
And wished God had granted me sight, 

That I might behold their tender. 
Sweet love-inspiring light; 

11 



So last night during my dreaming, 

To heaven I lifted my eyes, 
And saw them twinkling and gleaming, 

Gemming the deep blue skies. 

My soul expanded immensely, 
Lest I should ne 'er see them again, 

How long, how very intensely 
I gazed upon them then. 

I watched the glittering clusters 
And counted their radiant stars, 

Observed their various lustres. 
Which nothing ever mars. 

They glowed with unrivaled splendor. 
Those beautiful stars of the night. 

What joy to behold their tender, 
Sweet, love-inspiring light ! 

Just as they shown through my dreaming, 
Like millions of diamonds most bright, 

I fancy them o'er me gleaming 
In heaven's dome each night. 



A QUESTION. 

Are we but dreamers, I and thou? 
The joys and hopes that thrill us now, 
Are these mere visions of the night, 
That cannot bear the morning light ; 
But with the first faint blush of dawn, 
Must fade and be forever gone? 
Must our bliss always only seem 
Or shall we realize our dream? 



ALBUM VERSE. 

True love is dearer than all else, 

When has it wooed and failed to win? 

The hardest heart it charms and melts. 
It lifts the wretch from woe and sin. 



12 



Love wipes the tears from weary eyes, 
Brings back their long forgotten light, 

It comes with laughter, checks all sighs, 
Plants roses on the cheek most white. 

Love changes discord, pain and strife, 
To harmony repose and peace ; 

Makes souls it found so sick of life, 
Deplore that life must ever cease. 

Love's magic power can soothe and calm 
When vain hath proved all other skill; 

Love is the surest healing balm 
For every wound and every ill. 



A PICTURE OF YOU WHEN YOU WERE A BABY. 

My precious girl, a mother sobbed, 

Amid the twilight gray, 
While bending fondly o'er the couch 

Whereon her daughter lay, 
Death's angel hovers o'er you now, 

We soon must part, it may be, 
A vivid picture comes to me 

Of when you were a baby. 

Chorus : 

A picture of you when you were a baby 
I kiss your lips and dream of all you may be ; 
It shows you cooing in my arms, 
It points out all your countless charms. 
That picture of you when you were a baby. 

The cooing, prattling baby one. 

What else on earth so dear? 
The velvet hands, the silken hair, 

The tender eyes so clear. 
The tiny form, the trusting heart. 

How richly you repay me 
For every care, the mother sings. 

My own, my darling baby. 

(Chorus.) 
13 



It matters not how fast and far 

The child has strayed in sin, 
It matters not how fraught with crime 

The wayward life has been, 
The mother loves and claims it still, 

And prays reformed it may be, 
She sings, a picture comes to me. 

Of when you were a baby. 

(Chorus.) 

Your son may reach the topmost round 

That crowns fame's ladder high, 
Dame Fortune may surround your girl 

With all that wealth can buy; 
Mid clouds or sunshine, weal or woe. 

Whatever lot it may be. 
The sweetest picture of your child 

Is when it was a baby. 

(Chorus.) 



AN ACROSTIC. 

When dreaming, my heart knew no sadness, 

It thrilled with ineffable gladness. 

Life's toils and its worries were banished. 

Love's yearnings and cravings had vanished; 

I knew not a sorrow in seeming. 

All was as I wished it when dreaming; 

My hopes in fruition all ended. 

My life with a dearer life blended. 

Unchanging was all that I cherished, 

Lived nothing, which charmed me, that perished. 

Fain would I have this more than seeming; 

Oh, I was so happy when dreaming, 

Reality wakes me with weeping. 

Dear dreaming, return when I'm sleeping. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

All the autumn leaves are dying. 

All the autumn breezes sighing, 

Waft the last sad message of perishing leaves. 

So withers all beauty to which the heart cleaves. 

14 



Those leaves, living-green and tender, 
From spring till fall waved in splendor. 
And now they are fated to burn or to mold, 
Because they are fallen, dead, withered and old. 

Dead leaves raked by tons together, 

Must burn during autumn weather. 

Or lie there decaying, enriching the soil. 

From ghostly tree branches we shrink and recoil. 

So low are those bare boughs swaying, , 
As if to seize us while straying, 
And hoarsely they echo the dirge of the leaves : 
So withers all beauty to which the heart cleaves. 

But is there no future waking? 

No balm for bereaved hearts breaking? 

Faith *s song drowns all voices of dirge wailing leaves, 

Await resurrection, whoever believes. 

For there comes sure resurrection. 
Of all most dear to affection. 
Hold fast the assurance, each spirit that grieves. 
Next springtime watch tree boughs all put forth new 
leaves. 

Each cherished sweet human blossom. 

Dropped to sleep here on earth ^s bosom. 

Shall bloom new in heaven, where nothing deceives, 

Where life-trees eternal wear evergreen leaves. 



ALL ABOUT THE WASH-OUT ON THE LINE. 

On busy city thoroughfare 

I mingled once with passers there. 

At middle of the afternoon 

On the last fleeting day of June. 

Black clouds had threatened rain for hours, 

And now it came in |;orrent showers. 

I listened to the murmuring throng. 

That seeking shelter rushed along, 

Myself escaping the downpour 

Beneath the awning of a store. 

With all the world I felt at peace. 

And planned to dream till rain should cease. 

15 



But sudden great surprise was mine — 

''All about the washout on the line,'* 

The newsboys all began to shout. 

I knew my wife had washing out, 

For I had put the boiler on, 

And all the needed water drawn. 

Before I went to work that day, 

While still the sunshine's golden ray, 

Fell fondly down with kisses warm. 

And gave no sign of coming storm ; 

But clouds arose of dark design — 

All about the washout on the line. 

It rang, it echoed near and far. 

Above the clash and din and jar 

Of all the tumult and the strife 

Of busy, restless city life. 

I thought about my socks and shirt. 

And hoped they still remained unhurt. 

I wondered if the wind, perchance. 

Had seized and carried off my pants. 

I thought of wife and all our boys. 

If minus clothes, then minus joys. 

But had my wife the storm foreseen, 

And gathered all in safe and clean? 

At least one gleam of hope was mine; 

''All about the washout on the line," 

A newsboy yelled quite close to me 

But still that hope-gleam would not flee. 

I said I'll yield myself to fate. 

And sheltered here serenely wait, 

'Till this rain ceases, then I'll go. 

Perhaps I have no cause for woe. 

My wife is not the only dame, 

A thousand women just the same. 

Hung clothes today as well as mine — 

"All about the washout on the line," 

In each direction roared a kid, 

And then no matter what I did. 

My thoughts would still revert to home, 

And picture grief beneath its dome. 

At last the mad rain ceased to fall; 

I bought a paper, that was all, 

For I was too confused to read, 

I hailed the street car, and with speed. 

Was hurried up the homeward track. 

And soon to my own door was back. 

Wife met me in her usual way, 

16 



I gasped, how fares the wash today ? 
Oh, it's all safe, and clean, and dry, 
I'm ironing now, was her reply. 
I told her then my story through. 
She laughed at me and I laughed, too. 
We searched the paper to divine, 
"All about the washout on the line," 
And found some bit of railroad track, 
Had been washed out and all put back. 



AN AUTUMN ROSE. 

I held a pure rose to polluted lips, 

While I kissed its life away. 
Breathing perfume stored in its heart's pure depths, 

Till I breathed it all that day. 
How blighted and black soon became the rose, 

Quite killed by my foul hot breath. 
Ah ! its pure sweet breath, had it sweetened mine. 

And changed my life through its death ? 
I dropped it at last with most reverend hand, 

Its grand mission here was done, 
To Calvary's cross then I looked in faith, 

And the victory was won. 
There the crimson stream flowing down for all. 

Made me pure as that pure rose. 
Only wholesome breath now my lips exhale, 

As each moment comes and goes. 
No more does it blight blooming autumn rose, 

Fraught with fragrant holy balm. 
So with light glad heart and pure spirit free 

My life is forever calm. 



A LITTLE NEW-MADE GRAVE. 

When the springtime fully opens. 

And sweet warblers trill again. 
When soft grasses and wild roses 

Grow along the pleasant lane, 
When orchards bud and blossom. 

When the leafy tree-boughs wave, 
I will often steal in silence. 

To a little new-made grave. 

Chorus : 
17 



There is a little new-made grave, 
Where the stately oak trees wave, 

And my lonely heart is pining evermore. 
But I'll clasp my precious child, 
When I cross death's river wild, 

And be happy on that far-off golden shore. 



II. 



Since I lost my infant darling, 

Life is dark and incomplete. 
How I miss the magic music 

Of his voice and tiny feet. 
To my soul divinest rapture 

His angelic presence gave, 
But his baby form now slumbers 

In a little new-made grave. 

III. 

But I know when life is ended 

I shall clasp my child again. 
And forever live in heaven 

Far beyond all grief and pain. 
I am trusting in the mercy 

Of the Christ whose power can save, 
In the long-ago He triumphed 

Over sin and death and grave. 



BABY. 



My little Circy brought one day 

A half-dead squirrel found at play. 

Said we can save it maybe. 
Sweet-milk soon caused it to revive, 
And wonderfully it seemed to thrive. 

We fondly called it Baby. 



Chorus : 



Dear cunning, cute little tree-squirrel, 
So charming to each boy and girl, 

With fur soft as silk, through saucer of milk, 
In fancy I still see it whirl. 



18 



No one can tell what made it die, 
One evening so lively and spry, 

And dead the next day we laid it away. 
With sorrowful tear-drop and sigh. 

II. 

*'We saved its life," my boy would tell. 
It seemed so happy, strong and well, 

We hoped to raise it, maybe. 
My story ends in deep regret. 
Just one short week we kept this pet. 

Then lost our wild-wood baby. 



BRIDAL GREETING. 

Dear friend, may this, thy wedding day, 
Prove sunny as the flowery May, 
With not one cloud in all the sky. 
Nor anything to make thee sigh. 

II. 

Sweet faithful friends and kindred dear 
With kisses, gifts and words sincere, 
Will greet thee when thou art a bride 
And all will praise, not one will chide. 

III. 

Kind heaven, grant it may be so, 

Thro ' all the years thou yet must know ; 

May all the happiness divine, 

Wished thee this day, some day be thine. 

IV. 

Thou are a treasure truly rare. 
May he whose name thou soon shalt bear 
Quite realize that such thou art, 
And cherish thee with all his heart. 



Keep thee secure from every ill, 
And each day love thee better still; 
And when life's summer passeth by 
And thou with other flowers must die. 



19 



VI. 

In paradise I pray that thou 
With bloom anew, more fair than now, 
I wish him all that I've wished thee, 
For time and for Eternity. 



BEHOLD THE LILIES. 

Behold the lilies how they grow. 
They reap not, neither do they sow. 
And yet King Solomon so great, 
With all his glory, wealth, and state, 
Was not arrayed like one of them, 
Once said the Christ of Bethlehem. 

II. 

Behold the lilies! just the same 

As when Christ called them by their name, 

While pausing to admire their dress. 

He pointed out their loveliness ; 

Since then with every sacred breath, 

They honor Christ of Nazareth. 

III. 

Behold the lilies, white and pure. 

Of food and raiment always sure ; 

For God, who marks each sparrow s tall, 

Doth feed and clothe the lilies all ; 

And whether on the land or sea. 

They praise the Christ of Galilee. 

IV. 

Behold the lilies, evermore, 
Umblemished as in days of yore. 
True emblems of the sinless soul. 
Which all beholders must extol ; 
They whisper far more pure than we, 
Was Christ of dark Gethsemene. 

V. 

Behold the lilies' dewdrop tears. 

Gleam mid their white leaves through the years, 

Gold sunbeams kiss them all away. 

Still fresh tears bathe them each new day; 

Their dewey tears of sympathy 

Are for the Christ of Calvary. 

20 



VI. 

Behold the lilies, fresh and fair, 
Adorning every house of prayer 
In snowy, splendid, sweet array, 
They bless the holy Easter day. 
Proclaiming through each bud and bloom, 
The risen Christ from Calvary's tomb. 

VII. 

Behold the lilies, one and all, 

Adore the Christ whom they recall. 

Accept His love, repent, believe. 

And everlasting life receive. 

For heaven's reached through Him alone, 

The fairest lily ever known. 



BY AND BY. 



Friend, you and I, how often we sigh. 
And fondly dream of by and by. 
Sweet, golden by and by ; 
But much for me, and much for you. 
Would break our hearts, if we but knew. 
All in the by and by. 



II. 



Yes, there are smiles, but also tears. 
Not only hopes, but likewise fears, 

For us in by and by ; 
And there is sweet, but bitter, too. 
Both rose and thorn for me and you, 

Stored in the by and by. 

III. 

We little dream, much less can know. 
One-half the weal or half the woe, 

Concealed in by and by ; 
Yet countless things, both sad and true. 
Well known alike to me and you. 

Must come with by and by. 

21 



IV. 



A dying bed, an open grave, 

A soul returned to Him who gave, 

Are all in by and by ; 
And just how near to me and you, 
Friend, would we shudder, if we know. 

And shrink from by and by? 



V. 



Or would we wait, with hearts aglow, 
For sweet release from sin and woe, 

And long for by and by ? 
We both can say, if good and true. 
Hold what it may, for me and you, 

God speed the by and by. 



CATS. 

A real set of living furs, 

A pretty box of pleasing purs. 

Cute little kittens three; 
My mamma calls the fowls her own 
And papa claims the stock alone— 

The cats belong to me. 

One of them is as white as snow, 
Another black as any crow. 

And one is Maltese gray ; 
I sit and watch them by the hour. 
Their names are Fluffy, Fleet and Flower, 

What fun to see them play ! 

I pull their tails to hear them meow, 
And pinch their ears a time or two. 

Not very hard, you know. 
But just enough to make them spit, 
And when they cry of course I quit 

Because I love them so. 

They have not left a single mouse 
To bother around the barn or house, 

And not a sign of rats ; 
So this is how it seems to me, 
I hope the old folks will agree 

It pays to keep the cats. 

22 



CUPID'S FREAK. 

The crowded street car stopped at last, 

Scarce standing room remained; 
Inside a graceful maiden passed, 

One youth his seat retained. 
Near him this blushing queen of girls 

Stood charming all the crowd, 
Her laughing eyes and lovely curls 

Would make a princess proud. 
''Here, sister," called the roguish chap, 

' ' Here I '11 give you a seat, ' ' 
Then snatched right down upon his lap 

The lass so young and sweet. 
At once all eyes began to stare. 

She fainted in his arms ; 
He knew he never saw elsewhere 

Such rare exquisite charms. 
*'My little sister," he explained, 

*'Is too shy, I declare,' 
She always is thus shocked and pamed, 

If folks unduly stare, 
Of course I'm used to such a swoon, 

The trouble is, you see, 
She'll not recover half as soon 

As if alone with me." 
The people sympathized with her, 

And good Conductor Grear 
Had all the passengers transfer 

To next car in the rear. 
Then fast to far end of the line 

His empty car he sped, 
"I'll rush right home with sister mine. 

It's near," the bold youth said. 
"Good-bye, and thanks 'till better paid. 

She seems reviving now ; ' ' 
Then in his arms he bore the maid 

With giant strength, somehow, 
Across the fragrant clover field 

'Till trees on vacant lawn 
Their winsome figures quite concealed. 

And soon the car was gone. 
On velvet carpet of blue grass. 

The stranger by her side. 
Av/oVo the mr.ch bewildered lass, 

"What does this mean," she cried. 
"It means the crowded car you took 
Had no seat left, no strap, 

23 



You fell," he said with injured look, 

I caught you on my lap. 
And then that rude, ill-mannered crew, 

.!ust slared and made you faint. 
Like brother I protected you. 

Don't be vexed, little saint." 
Sweet words of praise instead of blame, 

The maiden's lips revealed, 
As each inquired the other's name. 

Their future Cupid sealed. 
''My debt of gratitude," she sighed, 

''How can I ever pay?'* 
He answered, "Be my own dear bride," 

They kissed and named the day. 



CHILDREN'S OUTING. 

Some little folks a ramble took 

To spend an hour or two, 
And paused beside a silvery brook, 

Where sweet wild roses grew. 
Birds round them trilled and warbled, while 

They watched the water gleam. 
And saw their pretty faces smile, 

Reflected in the stream. 
A charming maid with auburn curls 

And dreamy eyes of blue. 
Said: *'I know something, boys and girls, 

If you like I'll tell you. 
I know how golden sunshine's made. 

And every big black cloud 
In wonder glacing where she played, 

"Do tell us," coaxed the crowd. 
"Well, when all people in the world 

More good than evil do, 
Why, all the angels smile at once, 

That makes sunshine for true; 
But when all people in the world 

More evil do than good, 
Then all the angels frown that makes 

Black clouds, indeed it would. 
The better folks are here below 

The brighter shines the sun, 
And clouds still bigger, blacker grow 

As greater wrong is done. 

24 



Why, people sin so much sometimes 

It causes big cyclones. 
The angels scolding at their crimes 

Speak out in angry tones; 
That makes the keen loud thunder-peal, 

That seems to cleave the skies, 
And lighting is the wrath they feel. 

Flashed from their gleaming eyes. 
Low music of the rippling brook 

Accompanied prattling miss. 
You see, "I read a fairy book, 

That^s how I know all this. 
Here's how the blooms each youngster hunts, 

Came every shape and hue. 
An angel dropped a rainbow once, 

It reached the whole world through ; 
Small pieces scattered everywhere. 

And any place one fell, 
A lovely flower sprang up there 

As if by magic spell; 
And if the broken rainbow-bit 

Was orange, red or blue. 
The blossom was shaped just like it, 

And colored like it, too; 
Why, we could soon mend that rainbow 

As good as new again, 
If we could braid all blooms that grow 

In one long lovely chain. 
Somewhere that bow through all the year 

Shines radiant with love: 
So we would rather keep it here 

Than hang it back above. 
I could just tell whole volumes more. 

Some other time I will; 
Then, charmed, they strolled with sweet Lenore, 

Back home across the hill. 



CONFESSION. 



To the dear little blossom that leans on my breast 
I confide what to mortal IVe never confessed; 
In the tenderest whisper my hopes do I breathe. 
And the dear little blossom doth hear and believe. 

To the dear little blossom pressed close to my heart. 
All my love, all my longings, I freely impart; 

25 



I withhold not one secret, I dare not deceive, 
For the dear little blossom doth hear and believe. 

How the dear little blossom in which I confide 
Seems to sympathize always, and never will chide ; 
There is balm in its fragrance, all pain to relieve, 
As the dear little blossom doth hear and believe. 

Ah, the dear little blossom is white as pure snow, 
Is it strange that I trust it with all that I know? 
It will never betray me, nor cause me to grive, 
So the dear little blossom shall hear and believe. 



CLAUDIA. 



Dear Claudia, gay, sweet fair haired girl, 

With dreamy eyes of blue. 
To some fond hearts there is no pearl 

In all this world like you. 
In life's bright morning now you stand 

Endowed with all the wealth 
That makes existence truly grand, 

Youth, strength, and perfect health. 
Enjoy these luxuries while yours. 

For they will fade too fast, 
There's nothing earthly that endures. 

No beauty born to last. 
Then make the most of each today, 

Live true to love and home, 
Though yesterday has passed away, 

Tomorrow may not come. 
Of where you cast your pearls beware. 

Deal not in thorns, but flowers, 
And scatter sunshine everywhere 

Through all life's changing hours. 
You have a clear, soft, gentle voice, 

Forever let it sound. 
That all who hear it may rejoice. 

And love to linger round. 
Speak always in a tender tone, 

The kind words bliss imparts, 
And how it soothes the weary one, 

While cruel words break hearts. 
Wreathe not your face in winning smiles. 

Just for the stranger cold. 

Whom it for one brief hour beguiles, 

Then seems a toy grown old; 



26 



But smile on those who love you best, 

So much for smiles they long, 
And they will treasure in the breast 

Each look, each word and song. 
By them remembered until death, 

And cherished you will be, 
While here you draw this fleeting breath, 

Live for eternity. 
The soul, immortal and divine, 

Will live while ages roll. 
All else must perish and decline. 

But deathless is the soul. 



CHRISTIAN CONTENTMENT. 

Ah! the winter's cold and cruel. 

Shrouded lies all earth in snow, 
Dark clouds thickly veil all heaven, 

Yet our tears refuse to flow; 
Just beyond is sunny springtime. 

Fraught with all that's most divine, 
Snow and winter soon must vanish. 

Hence 'tis folly to repine. 



II. 



Ah! the day is dull and dreary, 

Only toil for every hour, 
Yet escapes our lips no murmur, 

On our brow no frown doth lower; 
Just beyond with sleep and quiet, 

Rest, and golden dreams comes night, 
Toil and strife will soon be over, 

Hence our spirits now are light. 

III. 

Everywhere sharp thorns grow thickly. 

Pierced and bleeding hands are ours. 
Yet we turn not home in anger 

From the verdant vernal bowers. 
We are culling royal roses. 

Richly fragrant, wondrous fair, 
And no hand can win these treasures 

Lest it wounds of thorns will bear. 



27 



IV. 



Ah! the cross is hard and heavy, 

There's no friend to share its weight, 
None to sympathize, give solace, 

Yet bewail we not our fate; 
Thus the Book of Books consoles us, 

There waits an immortal crown. 
For each cross sustained with patience 

'Till God orders it laid down. 

V. 

Ah ! the path is steep and stony. 

Every gleam of light is gone, 
Yet we pause not, nor lose courage, 

But with willing feet press on; 
Just beyond is home, 'tis heaven, 

And however rough the way. 
Straight it leads through pearly portals 

To eternal perfect day. 



CHRISTMAS TIME. 

It is Christmas time, and the soft white snow 

Falls deep o'er this land of ours, 
Silvery sleigh bells chime, and, with heart aglow, 

I dream of great fairy towers; 
Where millions of toys, piled high as the clouds, 

In radiant splendor gleam, 
And the girls and boys, in numberless crowds, 

Seek these fair toys in my dream. 
In search of some prize, like a busy bee, 

Each child hurries in and out. 
How their hearts and eyes dance with mirth and glee, 

As they run, and leap, and shout. 
With laughter and song they dart to and fro. 

And I look all around to see 
If in that vast throng some children I know 

Are looking also for me. 
How the features change of each lass and lad, 

Watching the wonders unfold, 
But they all seem strange, and it makes me sad. 

What treasures their proud hands hold ! 
Is there no one here who knows me ? I sigh, 

Is there no one whom I know? 

28 



For I feel so queer as they pass me by 

And I long to join them so. 
Now I see a band of bright girls and boys, 

Why, there's our dear old school 
And I clasp each hand, while we breathe our joys, 

On the fresh air keen and cool. 
Together we roam through these fairy towers 

And we classmates choose our toys, 
Then we hasten home where the Christmas hours 

Most fully each one enjoys. 
How we coast, and skate, and what games we play! 

How we feast and feel sublime ! 
And we wish the great happy Christmas day 

Could last 'till the end of time. 



DREAM OF A SCHOOL BOY. 

Last night I had the queerest dream. 

It's shocking to recall, 
But if you'll listen and not laugh 

I'll tell it to you all. 
It seemed as if our Sherwood school, 

Just like it did last year. 
Another swell doll-party gave. 

And each child's folks were here. 
And many other people came. 

For I dreamed all St. Joe 
Had heard of our delightful time 

One happy year ago. 
I thought I was a big wax doll. 
And danced down every aisle ; 
The girls reached out their hands and tried 

To catch me all the while. 
I saw their own exquisite dolls 

Disdainfully laid by, 
While they affirmed the only doll 

They cared about was I. 
Some kept their eyes on my new shoes. 

Some scanned my suit of blue. 
While others watched my monkey shines; 

So I declare to you 

That, for my life, what charmed them most, 

My actions, dress or size, 
I never guessed, I only knew. 

Each claimed me for her prize. 

29 



In vain they beckoned, coaxed and smiled, 

Then yelled, " Oh ! you wax doll, 
And made one rush to capture me. 

But had no luck at all. 
I wildly scampered here and there, 

Unwilling to be caught, 
I ran behind Miss Wilbur's chair 

And her protection sought. 
She whispered: "I'm too busy, dear. 

At work with my own grade, 
Miss Gleaves will help you out I'm sure. 

Just tell her you are afraid." 
Miss Gleaves, I cried, please stop those girls : 

''Out run them," rang her call, 
I wished I were a rattlesnake. 

Instead of a wax doll. 
Away to Mr. Everton most frantically I flew, 

''The girls are after me," I gasped, 
I've no hope left but you. 

Why, if they catch me, then I'm doomed, 
Because I'll be, I know, 

All broken up in tiny bits. 
They'll kiss and squeeze me so. 

"Be calm," said Mr. Everton, 
I've made a big doll-house, 

I'll put you in it, nestle down. 
As cozy as a mouse. 

At midnight, when there's not a soul 
To chase it from the cheese. 

Get in at once, I'll lock the doors, 
Myself, and keep the keys. 

This house holds every luxury 
Contained in mansions grand. 

To please the children of this school. 

I've made it all by hand. 
You are the prize doll, I confess; 

But now each little lass, 
Who breaks you with kiss and caress, 

Must first break window glass. 
The girls looked sad and took their seats ; 

I just dreamed, what a joke. 
While learning my doll-party speech, 

I napped, and now I woke. 
I'm just a great, rough, blundering boy, 

I'm not a big wax doll, 
But wait, some day, one darling girl. 

May think so after all. 

30 



DRY CLEANING. 

A small boy hopped a street car 

And the crowded car rolled on 
To gaze out at the window 

On the seat knelt little John. 
His shoes were very muddy, 

Still he wore a happy smile, 
And wondered why folks near him 

Seemed so gloomy all the while. 
They drew back their rich clothing, 

Frowning down at his small feet 
As though he were a reptile 

Coiling there upon the seat. 
Fresh rain left streaks unpleasant. 

And the youngster had slipped down, 
En route to join his mamma. 

At swell business place up town. 
His face, his shoes, his garments. 

All were far from being clean, 
Still he kept blandly smiling 

As he watched each changing scene. 
Big bright signs on the buildings 

Charmed him most, for now, indeed. 
This first grade lad was learning 

How to spell and write and read. 
At last his dark eyes glistened — 

"Hey, conductor, "stop," roared John, 
"Does that sign say "Dry Cleaning?" 

"Yes, my boy," replied the con." 
"Then, let me off right here, please. 

That dry cleaning catches me ; " 
"I sure hate soap and water, 

So I'll just step in and see." 
' ' I fear, ' ' said the conductor, 

"We have passed the place too far, 
But I'll take you back 'round there 

If you'll just stay on the car." 
Said John: "My mother scrubs me. 

Plainly breaks the Golden Rule, 
Still goes on rubbing, scrubbing 

Says I must keep clean at school. 
She rakes my hair with vengeance. 

Scrapes my neck and digs my ears. 
Why, noon and night and morning 

I weep showers of real tears. 



31 



It's useless to remind her, 

Made of pure dust Adam was, 
She knows dust never hurts us 

Half like soapy water does. 
And hosts of little children, 

Stylish mothers treat the same, 
If kids hate soap and water 

I don't think them such to blame. 
So, now, if that dry cleaning 

Proves a real thing, you see. 
And mother once can learn it 

What a picnic life will be!" 
Rich clothing seemed forgotten. 

All forgot the frown and smiled. 
Some laughed outright and ventured 

To caress and kiss the child. 
*'Son," answered the conductor, 

' ' That big new sign does not mean 
Removing dirt from people. 

Just soiled clothing to dry clean." 
* * Then when I am grown, ' ' said Johnny, 

''I'll invent a way, I hope. 
To dry clean little children 

Without water, brush or soap." 



DORA. 



She wanders now, I know not where, 
If she is gay, or crushed with care ; 

But this I truly know — 
She played and laughed and sang and smiled 
As innocent as angel-child 

In days of long ago. 

As happy as the birds and flowers 
She spent the fleeting golden hours, 

And not once dreamed of woe; 
But that was in glad childhood years. 
The future brought her sobs and tears 

Unknown in long ago. 

With all the good and all the ill. 
She is my little sister still, 

I proudly claim her so; 
And still I love her just the same 
As when we prized each toy and game 

In dear sweet long ago. 

32 



EVENTFUL BANK CHECK. 

Typewriting and stenography 

A skillful maiden taught, 
Examinations final now 

Meant extra work and thought. 
So she felt tired, no doubt looked worn, 

That day when class dismissed, 
Her's was a placid, pleasant face, 

Not easy to resist. 
All blunder aimlessly sometimes. 

No matter who they are; 
Make foolish moves unconsciously 

While fancy roams afar. 
This weary girl strolled in the bank 

With check she wished to cash. 
Presented it to the cashier, 

Then she did something rash. 
Instead of picking up the coin 

She reached and grasped his hand, 
And for some seconds held it fast. 

Then seemed to understand; 
Asked pardon, while she deeply blushed, 

And gathered up her cash; 
Then darted out into the street 

And made a homeward dash. 
His words still echoed, always would, 

"Words meant to make her glad: 
''Your thoughts were wandering I know, 

That's all right, don't feel bad." 
When she had gone that bank cashier 

Stood silent and amazed. 
And wondered why so frequently 

Straight at the door he gazed; 
And during fleeting, future weeks, 

Each opening of that door 
Caused him to look with eager eyes 

For her return once more. 
Those clinging fingers haunted him, 

What magic in their touch ! 
He never dreamed that any girl 

Could interest him so much. 
"I have her name," he mused, ''and wish 

I could learn her address; 
But what's the use, she's long ago 

Forgotten me, I guess." 
At last that very girl brought in 

Another check to cash, 

33 



And handed it to the cashier, 

Then he did something rash. 
''I've waited anxiously for weeks, 

And watched for you," said he. 
"There must be some mistake," she sighed, 

''You're quite unknown to me." 
' ' Unknown, ' ' he murmured, ' ' quite unknown ; 

Young miss, you're right I guess, 
This check gives me your name, now please 

Tell me your home address." 
"Who is this handsome man," she thought, 

While pausing to comply 
With his request, then hurried home, 

She felt so queer and shy. 
What great surprise when that cashier. 

Called on her that same night. 
And when he left, her gentle heart 

Throbbed with strange, new delight. 
Those two were strangers never more, 

And after one brief year 
Again she clasped and held his hand. 

And felt confused and queer. 
What was the preacher saying, "I 

Pronounce you man and wife." 
That bank cashier with all his cash. 

Her own to hold through life. 
Typewriting and stenography 

She now no longer taught, 
But proudly kept her cozy home, 

What change that bank check wrought! 
If she had just as usual 

Walked in and cashed her check, 
Two fond hearts might be lonely still — 

This story all a wreck. 



EASTER BELLS. 

Tones of triumph, grand and thrilling. 

Listen to the Easter bells. 
Mystic, mellow music, filling 

All the universe, it swells. 
Christ from dismal tomb has risen. 

Conquered death for all the dead; 
No more is the grave a prison. 

Peaceful resting place instead. 



34 



Death is vanquished, grasped the story, 

Christ all other kings excels ; 
Lives and reigns in endless glory, 

Listen to the Easter bells. 

II. 

Telling story true and tender, 

Listen to the Easter bells, 
Mansions, robes and crowns of splendor, 

Wait the faithful, where Christ dwells. 
Harps of gold all tuned and gleaming, 

Higher place than angel ranks, 
By life's crystal river, tejiming 

With rich fruit along its banks ; 
And the tree leaves heal each nation, 
So the magic story tells. 
Free through Christ is full salvation; 

Listen to the Easter bells. 

III. 

No more languishing and dying. 

Listen to the Easter bells. 
No more sorrow, sin or sighing. 

No more sobbing, sad farewells 
In that beautiful, immortal 
City, with bright jasper walls. 
Gold each street, and pearl each portal, 

There no darkness ever falls. 
God's own face lights all the city. 

His great love— all love excels; 
Dries all tears in holy pity ; 

Listen to the Easter bells. 

IV. 

Down the ages shout their story. 

Listen to the Easter bells 
Change to blissful chimes of glory, 

Solemn peals of funeral knells. 
We shall rise as Christ hath risen. 

Death he conquered for all dead. 
Now the dark grave, once a prison. 

Is but temporary bed. 
We shall rise and share his glory, 

Faith in Christ all doubt expels. 
Life eternal is their story, 

Listen to the Easter bells. 



35 



EVER OR NEVER. 

If thou at the base of fame's ladder stand, 
And Dame Fortune proffers her jeweled hand 
To help thee ascend to the summit grand, 

Do thou hasten to grasp it ever; 
For those who wait till her hand is withdrawn. 
Till her golden smile is faded and gone, 
Oft bitterly weep, as the years roll on, 

But can woo her back to them never. 



II. 



When life 's summer reigns, and her roses bloom, 
Full of exquisite and most holy perfume. 
So beautiful that they banish all gloom. 

Do thou hasten to cull them ever; 
For if left ungathered they droop and die. 
As soon as life 's brief, bright summer sweeps by, 
When no matter how much we sorrow and sigh. 

They will bloom again for us never. 



III. 



When to do a good deed lies in thy power. 
Should it be each moment of life's every hour, 
Permitting no frown on thy brow to lower. 

Do thou haste to perform it ever ; 
For God tells mortals, a glittering gem. 
He'll set in immortal diadem, 
For every good deed wrought by each of them, 

Without good works crowns are won never. 



EARTH'S DEAREST PLACE. 

You may climb the highest mountains. 

And the deepest caves explore, 
Hear the music of soft fountains. 

Or Niagara's deafening roar; 
You may gaze on palace royal, 

Or survey the humblest dome, 
If your heart is warm and loyal, 

You will find no place like home. 



36 



Chorus. 

'Neath heaven's starry dome 
O'er flowery earth we roam, 

On land or sea, to you and me 
The dearest place is home. 

II. 

You may stand mid northern icebergs, 

Or 'neath southern orange trees, 
You may roam from eastern ocean 

To the distant western seas. 
You may view all noted places 

On the land or on the foam, 
But mid foreign climes and races. 

You will find no place like home. 

III. 

Scan the most exquisite features 

Of the grandest works of art. 
There 's a charm in plain home creatures 

Far more thrilling to the heart. 
Learn perplexing nomenclature, 

As mid natural scenes you roam, 
Still the simplest thing in nature 

Is the dearest, that is home. 



EXTRA. 



Extra! Extra! All about 

What is that the newsboys shout? 
Has some cyclone swept the land? 
Has some city, rich and grand. 
By earthquake, by flood, or flame. 
Been destroyed, all but its name? 
Or has news come from afar. 
Of great nations clashed in war? 

II. 

Extra! Extra! All about 



Still resounds the piercing shout. 
Scores of newsboys run and cry, 
Hailing every passer-by, 
^'Read an extra — just five cents; 
Wait no longer in suspense." 
Hearts grow cold and faces wan. 
Eager eyes the paper scan. 

37 



III. 



Extra! Extra! What about? 
Watch the public now find out. 
*'Man well known as Battler Brown, 
In the very heart of town, 
Vicious dog dared to assail, 
Street car cut off canine's tail. 
Two will sue for damage now — 
Both the Boozer and Bow-wow." 



EASTER FLOWERS. 

See all the lovely Easter flowers. 
And still this big, bright world of ours, 
By grander blossoms is beguiled, 
An Easter bloom is each dear child. 
And each shall swell the grand array 
Of final Resurrection Day. 
We're flowers, children, you and I, 
For that great Easter, by and by. 



II. 



When Christ was asked in days of old. 
Who should be greatest, said, ** Behold, 
My kingdom is like this." He smiled. 
And forward led a little child. 
Be just as humble, meek and pure, 
If you of heaven would make sure. 
We're flowers, children, you and I, 
For that great Easter, by and by. 



III. 



In view of all the multitude 
That little one serenly stood, 
So beautiful and undefiled. 
Then Jesus fondly blessed the child, 
And said, ''Be innocent as this. 
If you would win immortal bliss." 
We're flowers, children, you and I, 
For that great Easter, by and by. 

38 



IV. 

Seed, root, or bulb, hid deep in earth, 
Gives every lovely flower birth. 
Then to the grave be reconciled, 
We only bury each dear child 
To cleave at last the prison tomb 
And flourish in eternal bloom. 
We're flowers, children, you and I, 
For that great Easter, by and by. 



FLOWERS. 



My love for flowers is passionate, 

They seem like living, breathing things. 
And how my heart doth palpitate 

While listening to their whisperings; 
All glittering with pearly dew. 

Against my lips so fondly pressed, 
The pure, the beautiful, the true. 

And nothing more do they suggest. 

II. 

Ineffable the tenderness 

With which I guard these cherished sweets, 
And infinite their loveliness, 

What recompense my labor meets! 
Their quiet, budding, blooming bower, 

A paradise of glory seems 
They make my summer's every hour. 

More golden than all golden dreams. 

III. 

Of every fancy pleasing hue, 

With rarest fragrance richly fraught. 
It quite transforms me full into 

Their magic presence to be brought ; 
This sinful selfish soul becomes 

All pathos, love and innocence, 
bright, bewitching buds and blooms, 

I'm nobler for your influence. 

39 



FLOWER SONG TO ONE MOST DEAR. 

I will strike my harp so gently, 
And will sing in tenderest tone, 

Of the pure, exquisite blossoms 
Your sweet kindness made my own. 

II. 

How they rival heaven's rainbow. 
For they wear its every hue, 

And they breathe of all that's holy. 
All that 's changeless, dear, and true. 

III. 

I have placed them fondly near me. 
How I drink their choice perfume ! 

Can my heart believe their whispers? 
Most bewitching is their bloom. 

IV. 

Violets and green soft grasses. 

Snow white flowers and roses rare, 

Of them all love weaves a chaplet, 
Memories shall keep it fair. 

V. 

And your name shall gleam and glitter, 

In this flowery diadem, 
And of all its precious jewels 

That shall be the dearest gem. 



FOND EYES DO ALL THE WOOING— LIPS 0NL7 
NAME THE DAY. 

They watch each other jealously. 

Adorer and adored. 
His name is Oscar Wellesly, 

Hers, Eloise LaFord. 

II. 

Her form is fashioned slenderly, 

Of most exquisite mold, 
Her great blue eyes beam tenderly. 

Her curls out-glitter gold. 

40 



III. 

I've oft been thrilled ecstatically, 
By warblers I have heard, 

But I declare emphatically. 
She rivals any bird. 

IV. 

He bears himself most royally, 
Is handsome, young and wise, 

And cleaves to duty loyally. 
With zeal that never dies. 



Those deep, dark eyes of Wellesly 
Pursue this queen of nymphs 

So constantly, so jealously. 
None else can steal a glimpse. 

VI. 

But with those dark eyes Wellesly 
Has won her inmost heart, 

To know they watch her jealously 
Sweet rapture doth impart. 

VII. 

This morn she smiles approvingly. 

Dear bonnie Eloise, 
Caressing daisies lovingly. 

While tripping o'er the leas. 

VIII. 

* ' Sweet snowy blossoms truthfully 
Impart what I would know," 

She murmurs gliding youthfully 
To where a brook doth flow. 

IX. 

The silvery brook so cheerfully 
Sings as it onward flows, 

Her anxious heart not fearfully 
Hears what the flowers disclose. 



41 



She lifts her eyes delightfully 
Towards Oscar's home to glance, 

But feigns to drop them frightfully, 
For he doth thence advance. 



XI. 



They smile ''good-morning" presently, 
Their lips seem tightly sealed, 

But ah, their eyes laugh pleasantly. 
What have those eyes revealed? 

XII. 

A sacred love which deathlessly 
Deep in each heart doth burn, 

They pause a moment breathlessly, 
Then from each other turn. 

XIII. 

They daily meet, young Wellesly 

And Eloise LaFord, 
Each guards the other jealously, 

Adores, and is adored. 

XIV. 

But both are speechless seemingly. 
Their lips so seldom move. 

But ah ! their eyes dance beamingly. 
Those eyes make all the love. 

XV. 

The autumn passes drearily. 

Then cruel winter flees, 
Another springtime merrily 

Drops flower gems o 'er the leas. 

XVI. 

Bees hum, while laboring dutifully. 
Sip sweets from new-born flowers. 

Birds call and trill most beautifully. 
In all the vernal bowers. 



42 



XVII. 

Again she smiles approvingly, 

Dear bonnie Eloise, 
Caressing daisies lovingly, 

While flitting o 'er the leas. 

XIX. 

The brook she reaches presently, 
And sighs in tones most sweet. 

Dear, snowy blossoms pleasantly. 
Your last year's tales repeat. 

XX. 

The silvery brook still cheerfully 
Sings as it onward flows, 

Once more her heart not fearfully, 
Hears what the flowers disclose. 

XXI. 

Once more eyes delightfully. 

Towards Oscar's dwelling glance. 

But do not now droop frightfully, 
Because he doth advance. 

XXII. 

Their eyes meet, and gaze wistfully 
Into each other's depths, 

A shining ring most blissfully. 
The maiden then accepts. 

XXIII. 

Her fair form built so slenderly. 
His fond arms clasp in love. 

He whispers softly, tenderly, 
** Appoint the time, sweet dove.'* 

XXIV. 

**I name," responds she, lovingly, 
''The day that you think best," 

He kisses her approvingly, 
Who does not know the rest? 



43 



FOLLOWING CHRIST. 

I know that Jesus is the Christ, 

Son of the living God, 
I know my feet can safely tread 

The path his footsteps trod. 
I know the cruel, heavy cross. 

Like Him I, too, must bear, 
I know the crown of piercing thorns 

Like His, my brow must wear. 

Chorus. 

I will follow Jesus ever. 

Closely, meekly follow Him, 
And my heart shall fail me never, 

Tho' the path be rough and dim, 
He will let no ill betide me. 

Fondly near Him I will stay, 
Into Heaven he will guide me, 

I will follow all the way. 



II. 



What though in dark Gethsemane 

I kneel to weep and pray. 
What though I die on Calvary, 

My Savior went that way 
And I will closely follow Him 

In all through which he passed, 
Then share with Him in Paradise, 

Eternal bliss at last. 

III. 

I know to me can come no ill. 

My Lord hath not sustained, 
I know I drink no bitter cup 

His dear lips have not drained ; 
Then 111 not murmur at my lot. 

No matter what it be, 
The gentle, tender, loving Christ, 

Knows just what's best for me. 



44 



GALVESTON DELUGE. 

(To the music of the Missouri Shore.) 

All the world is now bemoaning 

Galveston's dreadful fate, 
Wrought by the cruel wind and wave; 
Every tender heart is groaning 

In the grand old Lone Star State, 
For the island city plunged in one vast grave. 
All the forms so blithe and happy 

Just a few brief days ago, 
Now lie crushed beneath the ruins 

Of the homes they cherished so ; 
While those who escaped uninjured 

Oft wish they, too, had died, 
For all they loved is swept away forever, 

Chorus. 

Hurricane and ocean rushed through the town, 
Hear them crush the buildings as they roar, 

I see fierce lightning gleaming, 

I hear the doomed ones screaming, 
Down on Galveston's storm-swept shore. 

n. 

Hear that poor lost baby calling 

For its mamma cold and dead; 
Husband searching for his dear drowned wife ; 
Bitter, burning tears are falling. 

Here's a couple newly w^ed. 
But the cruel storm spared just the woman's life. 
All the thousands who are parted, 

Language has no power to tell. 
The bereft and broken-hearted 

Seek no more for tinted shell. 
As along the beach they wander, 

But they shriek for loved ones lost. 
While the angry gulf alone roars back an answer. 

HI. 

The great gulf sent forth huge billows, 
And they swept the thousands down. 
While fierce winds wrecked their dwellings fair, 
No soft words, or flowery pillows. 
For the dear ones doomed to drown, 
But they died, while storm fiends mocked at their despair. 

45 



The departed none can number, 

Some lie buried in the sand; 
'Neath the ocean others slumber, 

Scores were burned along the strand. 
Where in life so oft they lingered, 

Greeting friends, or whispering love, 
O'er the island city all the world is weeping. 



GLITTERING SHAMS. 

I strayed through a garden of rarest flowers, 

As queen of them all I chose, 
To wear on my bosom close to my heart, 

A beautiful, blushing rose. 
Its tint and its fragrance divinely sweet. 

Proclaimed it a real gem; 
A moment it nestled against my lips. 

Then I held it far from them. 
Thos radiant petals an insect hid, 

Depositing poison eggs, 
So faultless in seeming that dainty rose. 

Was teaming with deadly dregs. 
Deceived and disgusted, I hurled it forth. 

Far off by itself to die. 
But its charm and its fragrance clung to me still, 

And caused me to weep and sigh. 
Far better a pebble of roughest mold, 

Acknowledged to be the same. 
Than counterfeit diamond, only a gem, 

In outward glitter and name. 
For the humblest pebble, just what it seems. 

With its small worth all its own. 
Shames the best sham diamond, beneath its gleams, 

Mere false imitation stone. 
The rosiest apple is sometimes found 

To be rotten through and through. 
So often the beauty that charms us most, 

Proves equally all untrue. 
Thus memory painted from real life. 

True pictures that shocked my eyes. 
Of foul sins and vices that daily flaunt 

Among us in virtue's guise. 

46 



I shuddered and trembled, soul-sick and faint, 

At visions that met my view, 
Where inward demon played outward saint, 

And the false passed for the true. 
Where hypocrite acted the Christian's part, 

And babbled prayer after prayer. 
What images loathsome ! all richly cloaked 

In garments extremely fair. 
In charity's costume stood private greed, 

And secretly robbed the poor. 
What poverty needed begged in that name. 

Then stole most it could procure. 
To helpless and needy, just deling out, 

What itself disdained to use. 
Take that or take nothing, was told the poor, 

What beggar has right to choose? 
Kind, generous donor, the gift you place, 

Yourself in the hand of need. 
Will surely accomplish the purpose meant. 

All else may enrich self-greed. 
Still another picture before me passed. 

So shocking it was to view. 
That from it in horror I turned at last. 

Soul sick as the false played true. 
In snowy soft raiment as vile a form. 

As any on earth can be, 
Lay dead 'neath a mantle of blooms as fair, 

As ever the eye may see. 
Their ravishing beauty and rare perfume 

Charmed all the beholders there ; 
It seemed desecration to bring such blooms 

For a form so foul to wear. 
Surrounding the casket stood closest kin. 

Who warred with the dead through life. 
All equally sinful. Quarrels and fights 

Ceased now, and instead of strife. 
Poured forth lamentation and solemn words. 

As the living praise the dead. 
The preacher was summoned, and people thronged, 

To hear what was sung and said. 
Mistreated since childhood, the silent dead 

Was the central figure now. 
Just loaded with honors in life unknown. 

Still no frown crossed that pale brow; 
For the lips that always reviled pretense. 

Were sealed with the seal of death. 

47 



If the vanished spirit still hovered near, 

False kin must have felt its breath, 
As icy as winter, still those cold lips 

Were powerless to make protest; 
So the show was finished, without a break. 

All the actors played their best. 
Soon carriages followed the dismal hearse, 

Soon the tomb engulfed the dead, 
Were the people better, or only worse. 

For all that was sung and said? 
At the bar of judgment when each shall stand 

In front of the great white throne, 
All sham will be useless, eternal truth 

Shall make every secret known. 
For the shining dollar is worthless there 

In that city long foretold. 
Where the walls are jasper, the gates are pearl, 

And the very streets are gold, 
Sick of sham and falsehood, to soothe my grief, 

I gazed on the gleaming dew, 
That jeweled that garden of dreaming flowers, 

Then I looked up in the blue. 
And thought how sweet angels those pearly tears. 

Through all the nocturnal hours, 
Over deeds of evil in daylight wrought, 

Might weep from celestial bowers. 
Still loving the sinner though loathing sin, 

Through all the eternal years, 
It would seem no wonder if angels wept, 

Those glittering dew-drop tears. 
Down among those fragrant blossoms I knelt. 

There under the starry sky, 
And out of the inmost depths of my soul 

Ascended this fervent cry: 
*'Dear heavenly Father, grant I may seem 

Forever just what I am, 
No matter how humble and poor, and plain, 

If free from pretense and sham. 



GOOD-BY. 



'Tis a little word, the word good-by, 

Yet oft it proves too hard to speak, 
Mere thought of it floods with tears the eye, 

Shoots a pang through the soul, and pales the cheek. 

48 



II. 

A pitiless word, the word ' ' good-by, ' ' 

It tells some loved one is to lose 
Forever more, or till long years roll by 

And naught can be done but receive the news. 

III. 

'Tis a cruel word, the word ''good-by,'' 
Most so when dropped from lips most sweet, 

More hearts than there are stars in the sky, 
It hath broken, of the best that e'er beat. 



IV. 



Where lives not this word, the dread *' good-by"' 
Is there no land where 'tis unknown? 

From the blue above comes prompt reply, 
'* Good-by" is unheard in Heaven alone. 



V. 



Were they forced to breathe the sad ''good-by," 
The throngs that tread the golden street. 

That beautiful home beyond the sky. 

Could not be a Heaven of bliss complete. 



GRANT THOU THIS PRAYER. 

Dear Jesus, grant Thou, I beseech Thee, 
This one fervent prayer of my heart, 

That I may grow more and more like Thee, 
Till I shall ascend where Thou art. 



II. 



I sigh to be full of Thy spirit, 
As full as the world is of light. 

When gladdened by glorious noonday. 
The time when the sun is most bright. 

49 



III. 

I yearn to be full of compassion, 
As full as the world is of wrong, 

As full as the flowers are of fragrance, 
As full as the birds are of song. 

IV. 

I crave to be full of sweet mercies, 
More full than the sky is of stars. 

As full as mankind is of heart-wounds. 
Of great sin-wrought gashes and scars. 



I long to be gracious and tender. 
Meek, patient, and lowly in heart, 

I pray to grow more and more like Thee, 
Till I shall ascend where Thou art. 



GENTLE, SWEET LOUISE. 

Round a happy southern homestead 

Waves a cool and pleasant grove. 
Full of mocking birds and roses. 

Where I often used to rove ; 
There I met and learned to cherish 

Gentle, bonnie, sweet Louise. 
Now I'm on my way to greet her, 

In her home among the trees. 

Chorus. 

She is waiting for me there, 

With the sunlight in her hair. 
And the lovelight in her laughing eyes of blue. 

She will kiss me when we meet, 

Then my bliss will be complete, 
For I love her, and I know her heart is true. 

II. 

I am far from dear old Dixie, 

But in dreams I live there still, 
Where the fairest roses blossom. 

And the sweetest warblers trill. 



50 



1 am going back not only 

To those flowers, birds and trees, 

But I hasten to my darling, 
Gentle, bonny, sweet Louise. 

III. 

If the train could speed more swiftly, 

It would thrill me with great joy. 
Never was my heart so eager 

Since I played a happy boy. 
I'm so anxious for love's welcome 

In that home among the trees. 
Where the earth will be like heaven, 

"With my gentle, sweet Louise. 



GOLDEN. 



All in the golden autumn time. 

With golden pumpkins in their prime. 

Rich golden corn on every side. 

Bright golden leaves blown far and wide ; 

Ripe golden fruit, rare golden grain. 

How grand was Nature's golden reign! 

With golden curls a blue-eyed maid. 

Through golden light beside me strayed, 

And looked at me with golden smile, 

The golden moments to beguile. 

A golden castle then in air, 

I built of golden fancies there. 

With golden lamps for room and hall. 

And golden frames for pictures all. 

Grand golden furniture to suit, 

Sweet golden harp, soft golden lute. 

And when the golden music rang, 

Wild birds in golden cages sang, 

Till life was one long golden dream. 

With golden treasure all agleam. 

Just then my golden vision fled, 

Mere golden memory instead, 

No golden castle left in air, 

No blue-eyed girl with golden hair. 

My golden hopes, too bright to last, 

All vanished like the golden past. 

51 



HALLELUIA ! 

Halleluia ! Halleluia ! Long and loudly let it ring, 
Halleluia ! All ye nations lift your voices high and sing 
One sublime, eternal chorus. 
Let it roll to realms above, 

Halleluia ! Halleluia ! 
Praise the God of life and love. 

Halleluia! Halleluia! 
Echo it, ye mountains grave. 

And ye vast deep, rolling oceans, 
Sound it through each hidden cave; 

Shout it all ye vales and woodlands, 
Let It thunder thro' all space, 
Halleluia ! Halleluia ! 
Praise the God of truth and grace. 

Halleluia ! Halleluia ! 

All the hosts of Heaven cry, 

Halleluia ! Halleluia ! 

Let the hosts of earth reply ; 

One great hymn of adoration. 

Let it swell in awful power, 

Halleluia ! Halleluia ! 

Praise Jehovah every hour. 

Halleluia ! Halleluia ! 

God unlimited in might. 

Is as infinite in goodness. 
Then adore Him with delight; 

Halleluia! Halleluia! 
To extol Him never cease, 

Halleluia! Praise Jehovah ! 
God of pardon and of peace. 



HER BABY. 



A mother's darling three years old. 

Worth thrice his weight in gleaming gold 

While lunching one bright autumn day 

Said m his sweetest prattling way: 

"Look at that baby on the wall. 

It won't quit mocking me at all! 

It drinks and stirs its coffee, too. 

And takes bites every time I do, 

Is it a real baby boy ? 

Or like my clown doll, just a toyT* 

52 



Fond mother, smiling, nestled near, 
*' That's your own little picture, dear, 
Watch mine come by yours on the wall. 
Just our black shadows, see, that's all." 
A colored man soon baby saw. 
Walk down the street behind his pa, 
^^liook, mamma," rang his silvery call, 
**Dad got his shadow off the wall." 



HOW IT HAPPENED. 

Once an old maid gave a party. 

And the neighbors came like bees, 
She was such a dear, good creature, 

Gentle, happy Eloise. 
So the people of the village 

Grew to love her, one and all ; 
Gray-haired folks and little children, 

Charmed alike, obeyed her call. 
After lunch was served that evening 

Welcome guests delighted sat, 
Kound their hostess in the parlor. 

All engaged in pleasant chat. 
One glanced through a picture album, 

Presently she smiled and said : 
**When a girl you were a beauty. 

Strange you still remain unwed ; 
There must be some secret reason, 

Dont' be shy, dear Eloise, 
Frankly tell us all about it, 

Friends, look at this picture, please." 
Every eye sought first the image, 

Then the true face, older grown, 
How bewitching still, they murmured, 

''Why live single and alone? 
Disappointed suitors, doubtless, 

You have turned down by the score ; 
Tell us all a real romance, 

Of delightful days of yore." 
Radiant as gleaming sunshine. 

Was the maid's responding smile, 
** Since I know of nothing better, 

Idle moments to beguile, 
Now I'll tell you how it happened 

If you'll promise not to laugh, 
And pledge who first breaks this promise 

Will go seek my better half. ' ' 

53 



In a trice they pledged and promised, 

And the lady thus began: 
*'In my dear old native village 

Years ago there lived a man 
Who vowed often that he loved me, 

And I dared not doubt him then. 
For he was a gay young preacher, 

Honored guide for other men. 
At our home he was no stranger, 

And the good folks of our town 
Talked of wedding bells, and wondered 

What I chose for bridal gown. 
One bright afternoon in May time 

To our residence he strolled, 
On the quaint upstairs veranda, 

Love's old story soon he told, 
In a dreamy mood I listened 

To the music of his tone, 
For his voice was low and tender, 

And his fond eyes met my own. 
"Sweetheart, be my bride," he murmured, 

' ' Don 't you love me, Eloise ? ' ' 
Then he tried my waist to circle 

With his arm for just one squeeze, 
But I felt I must consider, 

Not at random make reply. 
To a question so momentous, 

So I played a little shy, 
Frowned and gently thrust him backward, 

When by chance he slipped and fell 
O'er the banister, head downward. 

Quicker than my tongue can tell. 
By the bottom of his trousers 

Fast I seized him, holding tight. 
Hoping instant help to summon. 

His suspenders broke outright. 
Well, the next thing I remembered. 

Waving the deserted pants. 
Wildly shrieking for the parson, 

I bewailed the circumstance. 
Frightened boys heard me and questioned : 

''Has our pastor gone insane? 
Frantically in undergarments 

He rushed by us down the lane." 
"No, the man is not demented, 

He just had an accident. 
Please return him these lost trousers." 

Willingly did they consent. 
54 



Vacant was the church next Sunday, 

Minister resigned and left, 
All the village mourned and missed him, 

But no heart like mine was cleft. 
Since then I have held a party 

One bright afternoon each May, 
Ah ! those worthless, weak suspenders, 

If they had not given way. 
Then she paused, till breaking silence, 
Roguish youth was first to laugh, 
''Now, sir," all the others shouted, ^^ 

''You must seek her better half. 
At his side a handsome stranger, 

Rose and said with bow and smile: 
*' Friends, I am that absent preacher, 

Home, returning from exile ; 
This young man where I took lodging, 

To await the morning tram, 
Coaxed me to attend this party, 
And I have not come in vain. 
He restores the missing lover. 

Now my faithful Eloise, 
Since you love me still, our wedding 

Shall be any time you please. 
To the little church, soon after, 

All the happy people came. 
Old maid passed away forever, 

Eloise Claire changed her name. 
Then had all the world ^s suspenders broken 

It had been in vain; 
These two hearts were bound securely 
By love 's everlasting chain. 



I'LL NOT CARE. 



One day two happy children 

Walked together home from school; 
He carried her book satchel, 

As for months had been his rule. 
They reached his gate and lingered, 

She lived just one block ahead, 
He coaxed to go on with her. 

But she blushed and sweetly said: 



55 



Chorus. 

My mamma always calls me 

If I stop to play with you, 
She says rich folks and poor ones, 

Mixed together will not do ; 
But some day we 11 be grown, dear. 

Then we'll boss ourselves, that's sure, 
And marry if we want to, 

I'll not care if you are poor. 

II. 

Years passed. That same fond couple 

At that same gate paused again, 
This time she held his satchel, 

Called him Doctor, and looked vain, 
And pledged to leave her mansion. 

For his cottage soon, and wed. 
How proudly he remembered 

What so long ago she said. 



IF THE WATERS COULD SPEAK AS THEY FLOW 

I stand on the brink of the ocean. 

Gaze out on its wonderful tide. 
Pick up the bright shells it flings to me 

And sigh as I never have sighed; 
For locked in its fathomless bosom 

Are millions of secrets I know, 
And how they would chill me, and thrill me, 

If the waters could speak as they flow. 

II. 

Tho' countless the ships it has shattered. 

The lives it has taken are more, 
And still more the hearts it has broken 

That waited and watched on the shore ; 
So now, tho' its waves dance and sparkle, 

I'll not be deceived by their glow, i 

For each wave must own it has murdered 
If the waters could speak as they flow. 

56 



III. 

The father and son clinging closely, 

The bridegroom embracing the bride, 
The young mother clasping her infant 

Have often been slain by this tide; 
It swept them down, murdered them, 
drowned them. 

Cared not for their wailings of woe, 
Their prayers and pleadings would kill me 

If the waters could speak as they flow. 

IV. 

But tales of the dead and the dying 

Are not all these waters could tell, 
Love 's tender, sweet, beautiful story 

They've heard 'till they know it full well; 
And all that makes life worth the living, 

And binds heart to heart here below. 
My spirit would learn at this moment 

If the waters could speak as they flow. 



Each joy that dear hope has for mortals 

And all the rich blessings of faith 
Are no more unknown to these waters 

Than all the dread sorrows of death ; 
And I should be thrilled with such rapture 

As heaven alone can bestow 
If I would lean over and listen, 

And the waters could speak as they flow. 

VI. 

Roll on, thou vast deep, mighty ocean. 

Throw more fairy shells at my feet, 
Shower more of thy pearls on the diver, 

Roll on while the centuries fleet; 
Each secret that's locked in thy bosom 

The universe some day shall know. 
And thou shalt give up thy best treasures, 

Tho' the waters speak not as they flow. 



57 



IMPROIMPTU. 

I am sitting in the doorway 

Of my uncle's rural home, 
Which is by tall trees surrounded, 

Not a cloud veils heaven's dome. 

II. 

Fairy spring-time has departed. 

Countless charms have with her flown, 

But the glad, warm, golden summer 
Wears a glory of her own. 

III. 

Rests a bright-eyed infant cousin 
In my arms, while to and fro, 

Slowly, quietly I'm rocking. 
Kissed by breezes whispering low. 

IV. 

To the softest, choicest music 

Ever borne to human ear. 
With intense delight I'm listening. 

Faultless silvery notes, how dear ! 



Angel, fairy, worshiped lover. 
No, the singer's none of these. 

But a mocking bird nuite hidden 
In one of these tall, green trees. 

VI. 

Often there so near the doorway 

It has most divinely sung. 
Just as often I have listened— 

Poet's pen or scholar's tongue. 

VII. 

Strove they to express the sweetness 
Of that little darling's voice 

Would, indeed, be wholly powerless, 
Silvery notes, divine, most choice. 

58 



VIII. 

Many gladsome golden summers, 
Many lovely spring-times gone, 

Countless dear birds of the wild wood 
Have awakened with the dawn. 

IX. 

Then 'till fell cool evening twilight 

Warbled tenderly for me, 
Driving from my soul all sadness 

'Till my heart echoed their glee. 

X. 

I pronounced their carols lovely, 
But my darling on you bough 

Far excels all other warblers — 
Sing forever, just as now. 

XI. 

Hidden high among those branches 

Little darling, sing for me. 
And each cloud of sorrow hovering 

O'er this sighing heart shall flee. 

XII. 

Every heart-string shall awaken. 

Broken ones vibrate again, 
Love, bliss, sunshine, earth's like heaven- 

They shall play no other strain. 



IT WILL NOT BE ALWAYS SO. 

I gaze into my mirror now 

And see reflected there 
A tender, white unwrinkled brow, 

A mass of golden hair, 
A pair of eyes whose witching blue. 

Takes captive all I know. 
Soft lips and cheeks of roseate hue, 

A faultless form also. 



59 



n. 



But ah ! you wrong me who suspect 

I gaze with pride the while, 
This looking-glass does not reflect 

The very faintest smile; 
To haunt me comes a lingering thought 

That brings a pang of woe, 
I^m now with countless graces fraught, 

'Twill not be always so. 

III. 

'Tis certain that upon this brow, 

Full many furrows deep, 
Relentless, cruel time will plow 

Ere comes my last long sleep; 
This splendid mass of golden curls 

Will change to whitest snow, 
Today I'm crowned the queen of girls, 

'Twill not be always so. 

IV. 

This form must lose its youthful grace, 

These lips and cheeks their bloom. 
All charms must fade of form and face 

Without or in the tomb ; 
Like violets, then, meekly bowed. 

Forever will I go, 
Ye beauty laden, be not proud, 

'Twill not be always so. 

V. 

The only beauty born to last 

Adorns the human soul, 
'Tis something time can never blast, 

* Twill live while ages roll; 
Farewell, then, mirror in the hall, 

Unnumbered charms you show, 
Tho' every heart they now enthrall, 

'Twill not be always so. 

VI. 

I'll take the Book of Books divine, 
God's mirror grand and true, 

And this immortal soul of mine 
Reflected there I'll view; 



60 



If it hath any graces rare 
I'll rest not 'till I know 

What joy if as my face 'tis fair, 
For 'twill be always so. 

VII. 

Our toilets we arrange with care 

By parlor mirror's true, 
To remedy each defect there 

"We learn just what to do; 
And thus God's mirror teaches how 

To make the soul like snow, 
If mine has imperfections now 

'Twill not be always so. 



I WOULD DIE FOE YOU. 
(Better spoken than read.) 

Sometimes a man in eagerness, 
When courting his best girl. 

Declares her all that's beautiful, 
His flower, his star, his pearl, 

His fairy, angel— all that's dear— 
In ocean, earth, or sky. 

And then winds up in tragic tones, 
''For you, love, I would dye.'' 

II. 

Well, after we were wed ten years, 

Believe this if you can, 
Mv husband said to me one day, 

''"I'll dye for you, Joan;" 
I looked at him in wild surprise, 

"Do you mean that?" said I, 
He answered in the old-time way, 

"For you I still would dye." 

III. 

Well, I resolved to let him dye, 

And he to dye prepared. 
While he was dyeing I stood by. 

He died not one bit scared; 
His dyeing proved a grand success- 

Indeed, it was no joke, 
At last he really dyed for me— 

Dyed black my old gray cloak. 

61 



I WANT TO HEAR PROM MAMMA. 

My papa's in Chicago, 

Still he writes home every week 

My mamma's up in heaven, 

Sobbed a child with tear-stained cheek- 

W hy don 't she write like papa ? 
For she loved her babies, too, 

Has she no way, I wonder- 
Tell me, please, dear grandma, do. 

Chorus. 

There ought to be a mail route 

From the starry sky above, 
Each carrier an angel 

With sweet messages of love ; 
I want to hear from mamma, 

So I'll ask our good mail man 
To take my letters to her 

In an airship if he can. 

II. 

I want to hear from mamma, 

^ I'm as lonely as can be, 
I'll call her up by wireless 

If the airship fails, you see 
I 11 send her love and kisses 

On the night winds passing through 
And when I pray to Jesus 

I'll just speak to mamma, too. 

Chorus (as before.) 

III. 

Oh here's the best way, grandma, 

^ bhe can drop her letters down, 
I'll pick them up and read them,' 

Sobbed the child in snowy gown; 
Then if I just can't answer, 

Why, she'll know how much I would, 
inl I meet her in heaven, 
For I'm going to be good. 

Chorus (as before.) 
62 



JUS' A LITTLE ROPE "WIZ HANDLES. 

Once in balmy, sunny springtime, 

Early in the flowery May, 
Hand in hand a child and maiden 

Strolled together one glad day. 

How the wee one danced and prattled, 
Charmed, the listening maiden smiled, 

Since tomorrow is your birthday. 
Tell me what you want, dear child. 



'J 



''Jus* a little rope wiz handlas, 

Came the answer prompt and clear, 
*'Jus' a little rope wiz handles, 

Will you buy it, Annie, dear?" 

Yes, indeed, Edwina, darling, 

You expect it without fail, 
And a certain store that evening 

For a jumping rope found sale. 

Small, short rope with smooth striped handles, 

Yet next morning two bright eyes 
When they saw it beamed and sparkled ' 

Like two stars in azure skies. 

Two soft hands received the treasure, 
Two small feet then danced with glee, 

Those feet and that rope made music 
Equaled by no melody. 

Child and miss soon after parted, 

Never more perhaps to meet. 
Scores of miles their paths divided, 

Rugged road bruised maiden's feet. 

Yet the warm heart in her bosom 
Prayed the child-trod smoother way. 

And for years the child each bedtime 
For her absent friend would pray. 

Long since grown to be a maiden 

Kneels Edwina still each night, 
And is Annie still remembered 

Or at last forgotten quite. 

63 



Years since then have come and vanished, 
And with each returning May 

Happy groups of laughing children 
Have jumped rope in merry play. 

Then a lady sighed and pondered 

And in memory could hear: 
''Jus' a little rope wiz handles," 

Lisped by baby voice so clear. 

''Jus' a little rope wiz handles" 
Echoes now, and always will, 

"Jus' a little rope wiz handles," 
Sweet as wild birds' sweetest trill. 



JUST A LETTER FROM JACK FROST. 

"Just a letter from Jack Frost," 

Laughed a baby girl 
As her pretty head she tossed, 

Waving every curl. 
"Wonder what he said to me 

On the window pane, 
I will read at once and see 

If he wrote it plain. 
I get tangled up and lost 

In big words like these; 
Here's a letter from Jack Frost, 

Read it, mamma, please." 

Chorus. 

Just a letter from Jack Frost, 
Dainty lines, all curved and crossed, 
Gleaming as if they had been 
Written with a diamond pen; 
List of toys and what they cost, 
Just a letter from Jack Frost. 



II. 



"To Miss Baby from Jack Frost,' 
Mamma read and smiled, 

"All the toys you wish for most 
In my store are piled. 



64 



tiTy\ 



Now, be very good, my dear, 

Do not fret or cry, 
Then some day I'll leave them here 

When I'm passing by." 
Pretty head once more was tossed, 

Waving every curl, 

I'll be good, indeed. Jack Frost," 

Murmured baby girl. 

III. 

Baby lisped : ' ' Why, old Jack Frost must 

Be a millionaire, 
Look at all the diamond dust 

Scattered everywhere. 
I would like it, too, so much 

Just to use in play. 
But each tiny grain I touch 

Melts and slips away. 
I will try my best to be 

Good, at any cost; 
Bring the toys real soon to me. 

Please, dear, good Jack Frost." 



KISS AND MESSAGE. 

Weeping at a dying bedside 
Knelt a woman pale and worn, 

''Death is here," his victim whispered, 
"Yet you must not grieve and mourn." 

"Thou, dear one," the woman answered, 
"Thou wilt soon reach home above. 

Take for me a kiss and message 

"To the realms of light and love." 

Chorus. 

"Baby," mamma says to tell you 

"Life is lonely for her now. 
How she longs for you and loves you 

And she bade me kiss your brow ; 
She is coming soon to join you. 

Meet her at the gates of light 
As on earth you ran to meet her 

When she came from toil at night." 

65 



II. 

''I will take your kiss and message/' 

Said the dying one and smiled, 
"I will search among the children 

'Till I find your precious child." 
Death then seized his prey and vanished, 

This, the woman did control, 
She had sent a kiss and message 

Straight to heaven by that soul. 



LIFE'S GALILEE. 

Dear Jesus, once on Galilee 

In golden days of old, 
Thy loved deciples came to Thee 

While angry billows rolled ; 
And Thou dist rise from tranquil sleep 

And whisper ''Peace be still." 
And instantly the raging deep 

Obeyed Thy holy will. 
As Thou didst soothe those trembling hearts 

That helpless clung to Thee 
I know Thy goodness still imparts 

A calm for life's rough sea. 

Chorus. 

Lord, calm for me life's Galilee, 

Breathe now Thy ''Peace be still," 
And, as of old, the billows cold. 

Shall vanish at Thy will. 
Lord, calm for me life's Galilee, 

So cruel, rough and wild, 
I cling to Thee, Lord, rescue me, 

Thine own poor trembling child. 

II. 

Dear Lord, Thy servants sought to row 

O'er to the other side 
When boisterous winds rocked to and fro 

Their frail bark on the tide; 
But Thou wert in that bark with them, 

Hence they could not be lost. 
And Thou didst save and not condemn 

Thy dear ones tempest-tossed. 

66 



Lord, enter Thou this bark with me, 

Yes, enter and abide, 
For I must cross life's Galilee 

Unto the other side. 

III. 

Dear Lord, fierce billows of despair, 

Bleak winds of pain and strife, 
Great waves of sorrow, sin and care 

Disturb this sea of life ; 
My helpless bark is rent and tossed,^ ^ 

Wake, Lord, and whisper "Peace,*' 
Rise, now and save, or ail is lost. 

Lord, bid the tempest cease. 
On broken heart and troubled soul 

Pour Thou sweet, healing balm 
'Till safe at heaven's blissful goal 

I find eternal calm. 



LITTLE ALICE. 

Hear me sing of Little Alice, 
Alice with the soft dark hair, 

With a fairy's form and footstep. 
With an angel's voice and air. 

II. 

Rippling brooklet, golden sunshine, 
Trilling bird, sweet new-born rose, 

Like to these is Little Alice, 
Giving joy wher'er she goes. 

III. 

Queen of hearts is Little Alice, 
For with love 's resistless chain 
Doth she bind all hearts that know her. 
None grow weary of her reign. 

IV. 

Angels' hands for Little Alice 

Held the pearly gates ajar 
When our Father sent her thro them 

Earth to brighten like a star. 

67 



Y. 

Some sweet day dear Little Alice 
Back to that bright world will go, 

And be crowned with life eternal 
For the good she wrought below. 



LITTLE TOT'S SPEECH ON WASHINGTON. 

Here stands a happy freeborn lad, 
To praise his country's noble dad, 
George Washington, who could not lie. 
Now, say, was he as good as I? 
'Cause he just couldn't lie, you know, 
I can, and yet will not do so. 



LOVER'S LANE. 

Two tender young lovers 

Strolled down the green lane. 
And whispered love's secrets 

Again and again ; 
He clasped her white fingers, 

Her golden curls brushed, 
Bewitched by her red lips 

He smiled when she blushed; 
No glittering diamond 

Outshone her blue eyes, 
An angel or fairy 

She seemed in disguise. 

Chorus. 

I love you, I love you, 
I love only you ; 
By each star above you 
I swear to be true ; 

Your hand and heart give me, 

Sweet darling girl, do, 
I love you, believe me, 
I love only you. 

II. 

His passionate pleading 

She could not resist. 
But promised to wed him, 

Then shrank not when kissed. 



68 



Still closer she nestled, 

Clasped in his fond arms, 
While nothing else for him 

Held interest or charms; 
Their two hearts already 

Beat warmly as one. 
Each lives for the other 

No longer alone. 

III. 

That green lane thereafter 

Is called Lover's Lane, 
And countless young couples 

Stroll there not in vain; 
Wild birds and wild flowers 

Profusely are there, 
With music and fragrance 

They fill the soft air. 
Tall trees wave their branches. 

And Cupid is fain 
To loiter and linger 

In Lover's green lane. 



LOOK OUT FOR THE WEB. 

I saw a cruel spider weave 

His web around a fly; 
I watched him cunningly deceive 

His victim doomed to die. 
The helpless little fly at last 

Awoke, but all too late, 
In tangled web that bound her fast 

She struggling met her fate. 

Chorus. 

Just as the wicked old spider entraps 

The poor, little innocent flies, 
Some foe this moment beguiles you perhaps, 

Look out for the web and be wise. 
Touch not the wine-cup, beware of bright gold, 

Death sometimes lurks in a charm ; 
Often the love tale, most tenderly told. 

Is fullest of falsehood and harm. 

69 



II. 



To pluck the blushing rose we must 

Of piercing thorns beware, 
No matter how we love or trust 

Look out for web and snare; 
And neither fly nor spider be 

In this great world of strife, 
But, like each blossom, bird and tree 

Give happiness through life. 



LOVE. 



Of all the billions of words pronounced since cera- 
tion's dawn none has thrilled with delight so many gen- 
tle hearts, suffused with deep blushes so many fair 
cheeks, given a heavenly radiance to so many soft eyes 
as the oft-uttered, four-lettered monosyllable, '*Love.'* 
The powerful, indescribable gloom-dispelling, bliss-im- 
parting passion which this little word names is immortal 
as the soul. Like the soul it originated with the Omnip- 
otent, who commands that we permit it, uninterrupted, 
and Infinite sway. And just in proportion as herein is 
not violated His holy will does our earth become like 
heaven. 

Love does more than we dream to perfect human 
character; the sins whose commission it prevents and the 
virtues indebted to it for their birth are countless as the 
stars. 

Our minds will indulge no thought, our lips give ut- 
terance to no word, our hands be guilty of no act which 
we feel might forfeit the approval of those we love. 

Thus are we kept from sinning by love. Our dear 
ones often give us credit for good traits and graces which 
we do not possess, but for their sake we acquire. 

Thus are virtues born of love. Love is the very high- 
est degree to which friendship can atttain. 

The bosom unknown to love is a barren desert. But 
the one wherein love reigns supreme is an abode truly 
appropriate for the King of Kings. 

If such a being can exist, he who has never loved nor 
been loved, nor felt any desire to receive and return love, 
is of all barbarians most barbarous. And for him not all 
the wealth of earth could purchase happiness. 

70 



Of all the innumerable buildings fair heaven cano- 
pies the dearest, loveliest, most sacred, is deemed the one 
called Home. Tho ' it be the humblest of cottages it holds 
a greater charm for those beneath its roof than the most 
magnificent of palaces. It is love that thus endears the 
home so fondly to the heart. 

With all its luxuriant groves, delicious fruits, choice, 
tender flowers and joyous trilling birds Eden had not 
been half so glorious and grand had there not throbbed be- 
neath its bowers two human hearts made one by love. 

Imagine the various nations of the globe wholly de- 
prived of love. Better blot out the sun and stars, for 
love would make day of darkness, while its absence would 
make blackest night of the most resplendent day. 

We are indebted to love for inexpressible good, but 
more than all for this : Once we were doomed to eternal 
woe. 

Heaven had barred her bright gates against us ; they 
were opened by the Divine hand of Love. 

The Book of Books declares, and all nations conclu- 
sively proves, that the very God of the Universe is Love. 



LAST FRIDAY IN NOVEMBER. 

A winsome child the chickens fed. 
Returning to the kitchen said, 
"Just listen how those roosters crow, 
I never saw them caper so; 
And all the hens seem strangely gay. 
They must feel extra fine today. 
Geese, ducks and turkeys I can hear. 
In each direction, far and near." 
*'The fowls all celebrate," said I, 
**And not without good reason why. 
Just yesterday we were as gay. 
Now this is their Thanksgiving Day. 
Perhaps true thanks they really give, 
That they are still allowed to live. 
And were not served some tempting way 
To gladden our Thanksgiving Day. 
Companions slaughtered at their side. 
Before them fluttered, bled and died. 



71 



No doubt each feared the next sad turn, 
All they could do was wait and learn. 
So now would it seem strange if they 
Kept this as their Thanksgiving Day? 
The animals and fowls may be 
Today as yesterday were we ; 
Too full of joy and thankfulness 
For speech or picture to express, 
Still trying in their humble way 
To celebrate Thanksgiving Day. 



LOADS AND LOADS OF TOYS. 

The air is full of music now, 

Sweet chiming of soft bells, 
All heaven seems combined with earth 

To weave delightful spells; 
For Christmas time is here once more, 

With loads and loads of toys. 
Old Santa Glaus in queer, quaint dress 

Charms all the girls and boys. 



II. 



He claims he came from the north pole. 

Where Cook and Peary went. 
It must be icy cold up there. 

He doesn't care a cent, 
For he has piles of good warm furs, 

His smile no storm destroys. 
He shoots right out from that north pole, 

With loads and loads of toys. 

III. 

He has big autos. airships too. 

Sleek reindeer, fine and fleet. 
So he can race just like the wind. 

Through ice, and snow, and sleet, 
Almost too glad to eat or sleep, 

It makes us girls and boys 
To think old Santa Claus is here 

With loads and loads of toys. 



72 



IV. 

I look at folks with snow-white hair, 

And wonder how they feel, 
It's been so long since they were tots. 

Still none have lost their zeal; 
For when they fix our Christmas trees 

They seem to share our joys, 
And act as if changed back again 

To little girls and boys. 

V. 

They laugh and joke, skip here and there, 

And plan what's best to do, 
To make most fun for us small folks. 

There's grandpa, grandma too. 
With papa, mamma, all our kin. 

And no one minds our noise; 
It's Christmas time, and Santa Claus 

Has loads and loads of toys. 

VI. 

Of course, I want a host of things, 

I guess all children do, 
But mamma says, "Dear, be content 

With just what comes for you." 
Then let us smile on Santa Claus, 

Like grateful girls and boys, 
For all the Christian world must share 

His loads and loads of toys. 



LOST OPPORTUNITY. 

I will tell a little story 

And forgive you if you laugh; 
Once I might have swapped my husband 

For a jersey heifer calf. 
We were then just thoughtless sweethearts, 

And would never have been more 
Had I only snatched that bargain 

Like some bargain in a store. 

73 



II. 



I should have her best young heifer, 

So my schoolmate talked and planned, 
If I would resign my lover, 

Help her win his heart and hand. 
I was youthful, gay and happy. 

So I answered with a laugh, 
That I neither wished the burden 

Of a husband or a calf. 

III. 

Thus my golden chance was wasted, 

And the fleeting years rolled on, 
Once again I met that sweetheart. 

When my youth and vim were gone ; 
And I yielded to his pleadings 

To become his better half; 
Since that time I've wished quite often 

I had traded for the calf. 



MUST FOLKS KEEP STILL IN HEAVEN? 

His silken hair was golden. 

And his laughing eyes were blue, 
His little hands kept busy. 

For he played the whole day through. 
His parents idolized him. 

But the mother's nerves were weak, 
It often seemed to Johnnie 

That he dared not even speak. 
Once, nestling close to mamma. 

This pretty child of seven 
Said, *'Tell me, please, I wonder 

Must folks keep still in heaven? 
Or can they make a racket 

Just whenever they want to ? 
Why, down here, keeping quiet 

Seems the worst thing tots must do. 
I like to shout and whistle, 

Kick tin cans, shoot my air-gun. 
Play Indian or cowboy, 

Be a soldier just for fun; 

74 



But sure as I get busy 

Some one yells, "John, you come here, 
Don't do that, why, that's naughty, 

Try to keep more quiet, dear/ 
I coast and skate all winter, 

And all summer race and climb, 
But soon as I start something. 

Some one stops me every time. 
Now I call that some trouble. 
For one small boy of seven. 
And thought if folks make noise there, 

I might move up to heaven. 
Can little children scamper 

Down bright streets of real gold, 
With no one cross or nervous. 

No one ever sick or old? 
Can angels stand much racket? 

Tell me truly, if you know. 
For if they keep folks quiet. 

Why, then, what's the use to go?'' 
He paused, looked straight at mamma, 
With those wistful, searching eyes. 
His question might have puzzled 
Great King Solomon, the wise; 
No wonder that meek woman 

Was confused to hear him ask, 
**Must folks keep still in heaven?" 

How to answer seemed a task. 
She kissed his lips and fingers, 

Kissed his brow and each soft cheek, 
Smoothed his gold curls, caressed him, 

While she gathered strength to speak, 
Then in low voice that trembled 

She said, ''Dear child of seven. 
Right here on earth be noisy. 
Don't wait to go to heaven. 
Since boys imagine racket 

The chief source of all their joys 
I'll find a magic tonic 

In the music of your noise. 
I'll not scold much hereafter, 

I'll trust my health to heaven. 
Thrill me with silvery laughter 
Till you are three times seven. 



75 



MY PRAYER. 

King of Kings, before Thy throne 
In solemn prayer I kneel, 

1 know that Thou, and Thou alone, 
This broken heart canst heal. 

II. 

Thou wilt not look on me with scorn, 
Like monarchs of the earth, 

Tho' I'm an orphan quite forlorn, 
A child of lowly birth. 

III. 

For Thou, dear Christ, hast died for all, 

Died for the vilest soul, 
Lo, at Thy feet in tears I fall, 

bless and make me whole! 



IV. 



Thou bidst the weary, poor and weak, 

Come unto Thee and rest, 
Dear Christ, that blessing now I seek, 

I cannot rise till blessed. 



V. 



For past sins, pardon, I implore. 

My errors all forgive, 
I would be thine forever more, 

For Thee alone would live. 

VI. 

Thou who art merciful and just. 
My friend and father be. 

Implicit faith, unfaltering trust, 
Teach me to place in Thee. 

VII. 

Let angels lead me to Thy fold, 

However dark the way, 
I know beyond those gates of gold, 

There reigneth endless day. 



76 



VIII. 

A calm steals softly o'er my soul, 

My broken heart is healed, 
The blessed Christ has made me whole, 

To Him myself I'll yield. 

IX. 

Christ hath eternal life for all, 

A home beyond the grave, 
Dear lost one, heed his tender call. 

He died the world to save. 



MAGIC FRUIT. 

When with love I first did grapple 

Then my love looked like an apple 
And I thought she was the finest on the tree ; 

Day by day the sweet strawberry 

Grew to look just like a cherry. 
And I asked her then my bonnie bride to be ; 

Then she seemed a tempting peach, 

One far up out of my reach. 
For she told me that she did not care to wed. 

I replied, "You luscious grape. 

Now you're trying to escape. 
But I'll get you just as sure as wine is red. 

Now the precious sugar plum 

To more pleasing terms has come. 
And has promised in the springtime to be mine. 

Then of course we'll be a pear. 

Be that fruit of all most rare. 
And for pear preserves fond kisses will be fine. 



MY OLD RUSTIC HOME IN THE SOUTH. 

There's an old rustic home with an old-fashioned gati,. 

In the sweet, sunny South far away, 
Sixty miles from the gulf, in the grand Lone Star State, 

Where in childhood I oft used to play. 

77 



Just as gay as the birds that sang high in the trees, 

Just as pure as the blossoms below, 
Was my young girlish heart as it throbbed all at ease, 

Unacquainted with life's sin and woe. 

II. 

To that old rustic home, ofttimes lost in a dream, 

Back I wander in fancy once more, 
And pause by the spring where its cool, crystal stream, 

Still refreshes me just as of yore. 
How the quaint old log house bids me welcome today, 

As I climb to the brow of the hill, 
Where on all sides the yard, gently sloping away. 

Wears its flower- jeweled grass carpet still. 

m. 

How the dark clinging moss, with its somber green hue, 

Round the trees in soft beauty doth fold ! 
While Cape Jessamine rosebuds and violets blue 

Waft their fragrance to me as of old ; 
And I gaze once again on the fair spreading beech. 

Stately oak tree, and tall waving pine^ 
Watch magnolia blooms, so far out of my reach, 

Like the treasures I deem most divine. 

IV. 

From that old rustic home I have wandered afar. 

Still I smile when the silvery moon shines, 
For I know that it beams with each glittering star 

On that old-fashioned home mid the pines; 
I have many rare pictures on memory's wall. 

And each one through my heart sends a thrill ; 
But that old rustic homestead is dearest of all, 

In the sweet, sunny South, on the hill. 



NEW LEPER HEALED. 

Lord, a leper, I am told, 
Came to thee in days of old. 
With affliction worse than death, 
Kneeling low in prayer and faith. 
At thy touch, he grew as clean. 
As in childhood he had been. 



78 



II. 



Lord, a leper seeks thee now, 

Helpless at thy feet I bow. 

Dying from disease of guilt. 

Thou canst cleanse me, if thou wilt, 

Cure this leprosy of sin, 

I beseech thee, make me clean. 

III. 

Lord, as in the long ago, 
Thou art gracious still, I know. 
Lo ! I come to thee in faith. 
Save me from eternal death. 
Make the leper vile with sin. 
Like the old-time leper, clean. 

IV. 

Lord, I long and listen still, 
Let me hear thee say, "I will," 
Once more whisper, ''Be thou clean, 
And I shall be pure again. 
Now thy holy touch I feel, 
Sin*s foul leper thou dost heal. 



?> 



NEXT STRAWBERRY TIME. 

In a field of ripe strawberries. 
As the golden sun went down. 
All alone stood two young lovers, hand in hand ; 
Good-by, dear, he sighed and kissed her. 
Tear drops dimmed her eyes of brown. 
He had told her love 's sweet story, old and grand. 
And he breathed the sacred promise, 
While their hearts beat high and fast, 
In that fragrant field whose silence seemed sublime; 
**Just be true," he said, ''and trust me. 
As the fleeting months roll past. 
And 111 meet you here, love, next strawberry time." 

Chorus. 

Next strawberry time, the church steps we '11 climb, 

To the silvery music of wedding bell chime. 

Be true, dear, till then, I'll come back again, 

And I'll make you my bride, love, next strawberry time. 

79 



II. 

In a field of ripe strawberries, 
As the golden sun went down, 
All alone a brown-eyed maiden waiting stood, 
And she glanced off in the distance, 
Toward a little railway town, 
Now, she sighed, he soon will make his promise good. 
Dimly then she saw a figure, 
Fast approaching from afar. 
And her happy heart beat high m tuneful rhyme, 
He had come, indeed, to claim her. 
Soon he whispered, shmmg star 
Light my life each year till next strawberry time. 

(Chorus— as before.) 



NO GIFT TO SUIT. 

Sweet Christmas bells and Christmas horns. 

Oh, hear the merry sound ! 
Sweet Christmas bells and Christmas horns 

Ring all the world around. 
Old Santa Claus is back m town 
Just loading Christmas trees all down. 
See, there's a drum, a gun, a clown, 

Big new sled, iron bound. 

II. 

I wonder what my gift will be 

This year from Santa Claus, 
How can I ever wait to see, 

I'll phone and ask, because 
My mind will rest so easy then. 
Hello, St. Nicholas, this is Ben. 
I'm sure glad you're back here again, 

Say, what have you for me? 

III. 

A cunning poodle dog, you say? 

Give that to some old maid ; 
A monkey, jumping-jack and dray i 

Put them in your parade. 

80 



As, now the month was May time, 
All the west seemed turned to gold 

At blissful close of daytime 
When that robin sang of old. 

Enraptured how I listened! 

Like that bird I had a mate. 
His eyes met mine and glistened. 

In their depths I read my fate. 

He'd heard the bugle sounded 

And responded to its call, 
And when I seemed astounded 

He caressed me — that Y^as all. 

For language had no power 

His emotions to reveal, 
As blended love's sweet glower 

With a soldier's worthy zeal. 

He whispered love's old story. 
Then he said ''Dear little one, 

I'll share my fame and glory 
With you when the war is done." 

**Wait for me and be loyal," 
With fond kiss I sobbed I will, 

In uniform, how royal. 

He looked as he climbed the hill. 

For years war has been over, 
Still I watch for him in vain ; 

Was he a faithless lover. 
Or on field of battle slain? 

Its sad, true hearts must sever, 
Yet stern fate decrees they should, 

Still I'll be true forever 

With last kiss I pledged I would. 

But I must fill the bobbin, 
Oil this old machine and sew 

Till hushes that sweet robin 
Like one hushed so long ago. 

As to the bird I listened 

He seems strangely near, somehow, 
I see his dear eyes glisten. 

Feel his warm kiss on my brow. 



97 



But who can be encroaching 

On my dreary solitude? 
What footstep is approaching? 

Who can dare to be so rude? 

Some one would make confession 

Walks right in and shuts the door- 
Delight beyond expression! 

It's my old sweetheart once more. 

Since war in safe enclosure 
He has been forced to remain, 

111 from toil and exposure 

He was falsely judged insane. 

But this glad May time season, 
Doctors learned beyond all doubt, 

That he possessed full reason. 
So at last they turned him out. 

No oil, an empty bobbin, 
Still I have no time to sew, 

I'll listen to the robin 

With my love of long ago. 



SANTA CLAUS UP TO DATE. 

Old Santa Glaus sat at the far North Pole, 

Warm ripples of happiness thrilled his soul. 

Despite the bleak mountains of ice and snow, 

Despite the vast distance he soon must go. 

All his billions of Christmas toys were done. 

There was not a flaw in a single one ; 

And how they rattled, and glittered and gleamed. 

As Santa Claus pondered, and smiled and dreamed. 

**I should like to make my journey this year 

In some novel way exciting and queer. ' ' 

He said to himself as he calmly mused. 

Over all the methods he ever used. 

''There's the old time sleigh drawn by fleet reindeer, 

Now that 's no longer exciting or queer 

The railroad train and the automobile. 

Are understood fully from top to wheel. 

I think I shall make a glorious trip, ^ 

In a brand new, up-to-date, grand airship. 

98 



I'll sail like a bird through the breezy W^e 
Dropping each home's gifts down it's own stove flue, 

In asbestos wrapped so ^V^^.^^^^f ^,^^^^e 

Can burn them, 'till found by first man or dame. 

Who cleans the grate in the usual way 

To light breakfast fire on glad Christmas day. 

So he built a new airship large and strong, 

Like a mammoth bird it could sail along. 

He piled on his billions of gifts and toys 

For men and women, for the girls and boys. 

Whole tons for the rich, some few for the poor, 

Best presents must go where most cash is sure ; 

For Santa Claus needs a big lot of gold 

To live a whole year in the Northland cold. 

So after he sells all his toys and gifts. 

He buys what he needs as back North he drifts. 

How proudly he mounted his huge machine! 

And swiftly he sailed from each icy scene ; 

But the midnight whir of those airship wmgs 

Awoke and bewildered all living things. 

A fearful cyclone was proclaimed by some. 

While others believed the world's end had come 

How Santa Clause chuckled with glee and mirth! 

To think what a shock he was gVi^g^^arth; 

But he laughed so loud, and he laughed so long. 

That he lost control of his airship strong, 

And it darted down with terrific force. 

Spilling all it's load as it fell, of course, 

Old Santa Clause landed without a hurt. 

Except that his gifts all lay m the dirt. 

And his grand airship was a total wrecK, 

What luck such a fall never broke his neck! 

A terrible wind rose that very hour, 

And instantly blew with hurricane power 

All presents were lifted and carried torth 

To the East, to the West, both South and North^ 

AhUhe wind blew strong, and the wind blew hard, 

Till rich gifts lay scattered in every yard 

Then there come a sweet and most blissful calm 

All the great earth seemed full of white rose balm. 

For the wind had sealed every bottle's doom, 

Eeleasing whole barrels of choice perfume 

Then the poorest came from the humblest dome, 

Gathering'^richest gifts to cheer heart and home. 

Santa Claus sure came in a novel way 

And there never was such a Christmas day. 



99 



SAILING. 

Onward still, forever onward! 

Time's swift current bears my bark; 
Onward, with the blue dome yonder, 

Sometimes sunny, ofttimes dark, 
Sailing thus for many seasons. 

Hath this fragile life-bark been; 
Whither bound? For realms by mortals 

Ever dreamed of — yet unseen. 

II. 

Smoothly, ah! so very smoothly, 

Some days onward do I ride; 
Laugh and dance the sun-kissed waters. 

As I gently o 'er them glide ; 
All perceived is wondrous lovely, 

I've no wish the sails to furl. 
All my being thrills with rapture, 

I forget the gates of pearl. 

III. 

Starting soon I hear deep thunder. 

Dense clouds darken all the sky, 
Angry grows the tide and fiercely 

Doth it toss my bark on high; 
Lightnings flash, hoarse winds howl madly, 

I remember gates of pearl, 
Deep within my inmost bosom 

"Wakes a longing, sails to furl. 

IV. 

Sweeping on to shores immortal. 

Would my bark could cease to shift ! 
Weary, ill, I sigh to anchor. 

How much longer must I drift? 
Fearful hours in direful tempests 

Are unnumbered that I've seen; 
Golden hours <5f tranquil sailing 

Very few for me have been. 

V. 

Sweeping on, ah! 'tis no matter 
How fierce billows foam and dash, 

Angels around this frail bark hover 
^^ can neither sink nor crash. 



100 



Golden strand, thereon safe landed, 
Some sweet day my sails I'll furl. 

Heaven's courts in triumph enter 
Thro ' the gleaming gates of pearl. 



SHE HAS SWEPT THROUGH THE GATES. 
(Composed in memory of Mre Henry Toomey.) 

Our beloved has gone, her sweet spirit has flown, 
And we mourn her with tears and with sighs. 

For we loved her with love that no speech can make 
known. 
She has soared from our earth to the skies. 

Chorus. 

She has swept thro' the gates, the gleaming pearly gate^ 

And is safe now in Heaven, we know. 
There mid glory and bliss how she watches and waits 

For dear kindred and friends here below. 

H. 

Just as pure was her heart as the new fallen snow. 

And her life was as lovely as May. 
When the bright angels came she was longing to go. 

And they clasped, kissed, and bore her away. 

III. 

In white raiment arrayed, golden harp in her hand. 

And eternal life's crown on her brow, 
Mid the holiest saints in the bright glory land 

She looks earthward and smiles even now. 

IV. 

Yes, looks earthward and smiles, she's too happy to sigh, 

Knowing well that we're all on our way 
To share every delight of those mansions on high. 

And forever there with her to stay. 

101 



SING TO MY HEART. 

(To the tune of ''As Pants the Heart.") 

Sing to my heart, my fond young heart, 

A song of love sincere. 
Which neither life nor deatn can part 

From what it holdeth dear; 
Sing to my heart, my fond young heart. 
Of love sincere, and free from art. 

n. 

Sing to my heart, my troubled heart, 

So sick of sin and pain, 
Some tender song whose magic art 

Shall give it rest again; 
Sing to my heart, my troubled heart. 
Some song whose power shall peace impart. 

III. 

Sing to my heart, my broken heart. 

Some sweet, pathetic psalm 
Whose notes unto each wounded part 

Shall prove a healing balm; 
Sing to my heart, my broken heart, 
A psalm to heal each wounded part. 

IV. 

Sing to my heart, my longing heart, 

A song to satisfy 
And thrill its very inmost part 

With bliss that cannot die; 
Sing to my heart, my longing heart, 
Give rapture that shall not depart. 



SOUVENIRS. 



I read of priceless souvenirs 

From each known place of fame. 
From almost every spot on earth 

Some precious trinket came. 
I longed for one from Paradise, 

But where could such be found? 
I searched the list of relics gleaned 

From all the world around, 
But mentioned found no specimen 

Of true celestial shine. 

102 



No token even was described 

From that bright world divine. 
I breathed a sigh of deep despair, 

I felt all hope was lost; 
No prize from Paradise, I cried 

Not one at any cost? 
Just then I saw a little child. 

With hair like sunshine gold. 
With blue soft eyes, like bluest skies. 

And face of faultless mold. 
This came from heaven, I exclaimed, 

An image miniature 
Of God himself. How beautiful ! 

How radiant and pure! 
I clasped the wee one in my arms, 

Close to my beating heart; 
The happiness that thrilled my soul 

No language can impart. 
I smiled a cheerful, sunny smile 

That banished all my tears; 
From Paradise the whole wide world 

Is full of souvenirs. 
Then hold the children fondly dear, 

For every little tot 
Is earth's celestial souvenir, 

God's own forget-me-not. 



STOKY OF THE WHITE ROSE TREE. 

(I have simply woven into verse this touching little 
story so graphically told by Florence Barclay, in her 
''Wheels of Time." Merely placed in a poetic vase a 
bunch of choice roses or, as it were, have only framed 
in verse an exquisite picture.) 

As Florence Barclay this story first told 
Of the white rose tree which I now unfold, 
I just tell in verse what I read in prose- 
How a baby girl was denied a rose. 
By the garden path the fair rose bush stood, 
And it grew and thrived, for the soil was good. 
All among its leaves, so glossy and green, 
Each balmy, glad May white roses were seen. 
Once their fragrance bathed the rich mansion lawn 
At the twilight hour when the day was gone ; 
As the mistress sat with a friend at tea 
In the bluegrass yard near the white rose tree. 

103 



Then her baby danced down the gravel walk, 
With exquisite lips, just learning to talk, 
And bewitching eyes that like two stars beamed 
At sight of the bush where the roses gleamed. 
And a tiny hand was reached out in glee 
As she begged one rose from that loaded tree. 
The young mother, stern with her only child. 
Flashed a quick, cold look, and not even smiled. 
* ' See, friend, I have taught this dear little one, 
If I make no gift, she must ask for none. 
Proper training pays. Go to nurse, now, dear.'^ 
That the child's heart broke, to the friend was clear. 
For quivering lip, and suppressed half sob. 
Showed an anguish pang came with each heart throb. 
Up the gravel walk, what a slow retreat ! 
All the dance gone out of those tiny feet. 
And in silence thought the true friend unwed: 
Severe training fails, kindness wins instead. 
She returned that night to her own calm dome, 
Soon a message came from the mansion home, 
A childless mother mourns her baby dead — 
**Come at once" was all the telegram said. 
And when she entered that solemn death room 
The whole air seemed made of white rose perfume. 
Beneath a snow bank of white roses there 
Lay the baby girl with the golden hair. 
In the little hands, on the dainty feet. 
Round the golden head, lay white roses sweet; 
But silent and cold, just like marble there. 
The child gave no heed to her rose shroud fair. 
While violent sobs shook the mother's form 
Till white roses fell like a rose snowstorm. 
Down close by her side knelt the friend unwed. 
For she guessed her thoughts, so she kindly said : 
''Take courage, dear heart, from the bush so tall. 
You have stripped each rose, now she has them all." 
"Yes, she has them all," the lone mother cried, 
*'But the one small rose that she was denied 
Would have done more good when she asked it then, 
And that precious mouth will not ask again. 
Only thorns and leaves on each rose tree bough. 
Only thorns and leaves for my poor heart now; 
For angels have borne my life's rose away 
To blossom above till I come some day. 
I'll walk where God leads, do His will till then. 
And He'll give me back my sweet rose again. 



104 



STORY OF THE BABY AND CAT. 

(Written from an incident that occurred during the 
Kansas flood in the spring of 1903.) 

When the floods had wrought their ruin 

In the golden Sunflower State, 
When the war waged by the waters 

Was beginning to abate; 
Up the swiftly surging current 
Pushed a gallant rescue boat, 
Seeking anything of value 
In the river found afloat. 
There was every kind of debris 

Sweeping downward with the tide, 
Sometimes cold and lifeless people, 

Borne on waves by which they died ; 
Fowls and animals by hundreds. 

All that's dear to heart and home, 
Hurried by in mad confusion 

On the restless, wrathful foam. 
Seen at last a distant something. 
Could the rescue party save? 
How they watched as it came nearer ! 
Each leaned far out o'er the wave. 
With great hooks they drew it to them. 

Infant's carriage, think of that! 
In each end a living creature, 

A sweet baby and a cat. 
On those wild and warring waters, 
Long that tiny bark had tossed, 
Laden with its freight so precious. 

Yet was not upset, or lost. 
Baby dear was cold and hungry. 

Surely, so was kitty, too ; 
Some one gave them food and shelter, 

How I often wonder who. 
And I also muse and question. 

Who was baby, young and frail? 
Had the flood drowned all its kindred? 

Where was mamma, sad and pale ? 
Her fond hands within the carriage, 

Must have placed both child and cat ; 
Angels guarded and preserved them. 
Story strange but true is that. 



105 



SING THE WORLD A SONG OF GLADNESS. 

• Broken heart, breathe not your sorrows, 

For the sad world even now 
Groans beneath a billion burdens 

Which it bears, I know not how. 
Every breath of air is laden 

With a dirge of sobs and sighs, 
Misty with the rain of tear-drops 

From unnumbered aching eyes. 
Broken hearts, then breathe no sorrows, 

Bury them in depths unknown. 
Sing the world a song of gladness 

In a blithe, sweet, silvery tone. 



II. 



Broken heart, breathe not your sorrows, 

Lest the sad world grow more sad ; 
Seek for souls in denser shadow, 

Give them ease and make them glad; 
Use these holy balms and ointments; 

Truth and prayer, faith, hope and love. 
Tell about the grand forever 

In the blissful realms above. 
Lost in soothing others* sorrows 

You will best forget your own; 
Sing the world a song of gladness 

In a blithe, sweet, silvery tone. 



III. 



Broken heart, conceal your sorrows 

Ever from another's eye. 
Gently wipe the glistening tear-drops, 

Check the rising sob or sigh. 
And when life at last is ended 

And your heavy cross laid down 
Christ will welcome you to Heaven, 

Wreathe your brow with starry crown; 
Golden harps and snowy raiment 

He will give you at his throne 
While you sing with saints and angels 

In a glad, sweet, silvery tone. 



106 



SOAP BUBBLES. 

''Look, Pearl, what a beauty!" a merry boy cried 

As the soap bubbles rose high in air; 
''It's grand as a rainbow," the maiden replied, 

Then to catch it she ran here and there. 
"Oh, John, it is broken and vanished," she sobbed, 

' ' These bubbles are not what they seem ; 
I touched it," she gasped, while her little heart throbbed, 

"And it fled like a beautiful dream." 

Chorus. 

Soap bubbles, like rainbows, wear every bright hue, 
Just like gems in the sunlight they gleam. 

Then break, while the poor hearts that chase them break, 
too. 
Soap bubbles are not what they seem. 

II. 

Thus oft what most charms us, mere bubbles will prove. 

For we chase each bright form like a child ; 
There 's happiness ; yonder is wealth ; 

Here is love ; are we only by bubbles beguiled ? 
The bard truly sang, "All that gleams is not gold," 

Let us shun, then, the gaudy and gay. 
Lest life prove as worthless, when we have grown old, 

As the bubbles the child broke at play. 



SPARROWS. 



Out in the frosty yard I stood 

One drear December day, 
While common sparrow multitude 

Chirped in plain sparrow way. 
Where hundreds of them on one tree 

Seemed in convention there, 
I thought what gathered them must be 

Important bird affair. 
The multitude all talked at once. 

Talked fast and lingered long. 
While I, no better than a dunce. 

Could understand the throng. 
Still what they planned, perhaps, I guessed, 

Planned how to keep most warm. 
For plainly did black clouds suggest 

A swiftly coming storm; 

107 



This, too, perplexed the multitude, 

At least 1 thought it did — 
Where could they glean their daily food 

If snow the whole earth hid? 
I cried, "Take courage, sparrow throng, 

God will protect you all, 
To him doth all that is belong. 

Who marks each sparrow's fall. 
If deep snow covers all the earth 

His own he will defend; 
Abundant crumbs to scatter forth. 

Kind mortals he will send.'' 
I smiled, and fancied charmed to rest 

The throng grew at the sign; 
I wonder if they really guessed 

A single word of mine. 
What made them more contented seem? 

Big clouds looked no less black; 
At last they flew, left there to dream, 

Indoors I hurried back. 
I've heard so many folks condemn 

The humble sparrow bird, 
Because always, from each of them. 

The same chirp, chirp is heard. 
But listen, thoughtless girl or boy. 

Gay woman or proud man. 
Whom little sparrows may annoy. 

They do the best they can. 
But whom do sparrows not annoy? 

You ask with scornful air, 
In field and garden they destroy 

So much of value there. 
If birds destroy somewhat, perchance. 

In garden and in field, 
By picking insects from the plants 

They swell the harvest yield. 
They must reap, though they cannot sow ; 

God gives us seed and lands, 
They only share what He makes grow, 

Through toil of human hands. 
Sow seed abundant in good ground, 

Trust heaven, and be true. 
An ample harvest will abound 

For all the birds and you. 
And when you end this earthly strife 

How richly you'll be blest, 
If like the sparrow all through life, 

You've done your very best! 

108 



So when sweet springtime comes again, 

With glad heart in each breast, 
Forgetful of bleak winter, then, 

Let sparrows weave their nest, 
And chirp in silvery sparrow tone 

To little sparrow mate, 
As if for happy birds alone 

God made this world so great. 



TAKING THEIR TURNS. 

A group of bright children 

Stood around a young horse, 
And every one clamored 

To ride him, of course; 
Now, Joe, this is your turn; 

Next time will be mine ; 
So rang their clear voices 

Along down the line, 
Till Bismark had carried 

The last happy child. 
Then each for another 

Brief ride was half wild. 

Chorus. 

Now, Joe, you had your turn, 

So this turn is mine; 
Well here, Kate, be careful. 

Keep true to the line; 
Go fast through this meadow 

And down yon hillside; 
Please hurry, for Arthur 

And Grace want to ride. 



II. 



In smiling, in weeping, 

In sorrow, in joy. 
There came a turn some day 

For each girl and boy. 
In pleasure, in business, 

In life's school to learn, 
In profit, in losses, 

They all took their turn, 

109 



And seemed just as eager 
Each new scheme they tried, 

As once when they waited 
The young horse to ride. 

Chorus. 

Years swiftly rolled onward, 

That sweet, childish band 
As grown men and women 

Too soon had to stand. 
Kate's turn came to marry. 

Same turn came for Joe ; 
Their turns all were given 

In weal and in woe; 
How oft mid life's changes 

Each looked back and sighed 
For horse and sweet childhood 

"Whey joyfully they cried. 



THE SHERMAN CYCLONE. 

(Written just after that terrible storm swept Sher- 
man, Tex., near the close of the last century.) This 
song is sung to the music of ''The Star Spangled Ban- 
ner." 

Say, can you forget the dread Sherman cyclone ? 
The homes it destroyed and the lives that it blighted? 
The poor souls it hurled into regions unknown 
To stand before God, whom, perhaps, they had slighted? 
How dark was the hour, when the storm in full power, 
Swept o'er that fair town, dealing death in each shower! 
Oh ! say are the rose and the lily still grown 
On the graves that were made by the Sherman cyclone? 

II 

Fond parent and child, happy bridegroom and bride, 
Loved husband and wife, tender maid and true lover. 

Rudely seized by the storm, torn from each other's side. 
While the living half wild, sought their dead to recover, 
But their poor hearts lay hushed 
'Neath the great ruins crushed, 

And how pale was each face which so lately had blushed 
Oh ! say, do the winds and the waters still moan 
O'er the lives that were lost in the Sherman cyclone? 

110 



III. 

In its wrath that cyclone roars in memory still, 

While its fierce lightning gleams just as brightly as 
ever, 
Still we trust that fair town, now so free from all ill, 
Wears a crown of sweet peace which shall part from 
her never ; 
And may each breaking heart bid its sorrow depart, 
And be thrilled with new joy free from pain's cruel dart; 
Some bright day in heaven we shall meet 'round the 

throne 
Every cherished one lost in the Sherman cyclone. 



THE MUSTARD PLASTER. 

It was midnight in the city 

And the multitude slept well, 
But two anxious ones were wakeful 

In a certain grand hotel. 
Husband, seized with sudden cramping^ 

Plaintively did sigh and moan. 
Though long subject to such colic. 

This seemed worse than he had known ; 
Always had it been wife's custom 

Mustard plaster to apply. 
So she said, "I'll seek the kitchen 

And to make a poultice try." 
Soon the gas range blazed and sparkled 

And she quickly mixed her dope; 
** That's as hot as Jack can stand it," 

Thought she with a smile of hope ; 
I must hasten to apply it, 

Place it now while steaming hot; 
Up the stairs she flew like lightning, 

Almost breathless, pausing not. 
All the guests were sleeping soundly 

As in golden visions wrapped, 
Till the wrong man's room she entered, 

Snatched his garments back, and slapped 
Red hot plaster on his stomach ; 

Then arose unearthly screams, 
Rousing every guest that instant. 

Banishing all sleep and dreams. 

Ill 



From their beds they leaped, half frantic, 

Yelling '' Murder!" ''Robbers!" ''Fire!'* 
Woman in the wild confusion 

Found her own room one floor higher, 
Reached her husband's side and fainted. 

He, as if by magic cured. 
Hurried down to meet the landlord, 

Soon all guests felt reassured, 
Listening to his explanation. 

But not one of them forgot 
Fainting woman, frightened stranger, 

Mustard plaster, steaming hot. 
At the breakfast hour next morning 

Boarders met to laugh and jest, 
But their victim had depg,rted. 

Where he went was never guessed. 



THROUGH HALLOWE'EN HAVOC TO CUPID. 

It was one night late in autumn. 

When the wind blew high and chill. 
And no more bright leaves and blossoms 

Were left for the frost to kill. 
• These lay dead and widely scattered. 

All the world seemed bleak and bare. 
As I sat alone and pondered. 

And my whole heart broke with care. 
On that night all spooks were spooking — 

Both the unseen and the seen. 
Hoarse winds shrieked in ghostly voices: 

* ' Hallowe 'en ! " ' ' It 's Hallowe 'en ! " 
I felt weary, lonely, loveless, 

Sighing to myself I said : 
''Were I now a leaf or blossom 

I should rest unconscious, dead ; 
But my spirit is immortal, 

I must still live on and on, 
With the hopes of life all vanished, 

All its joys and pleasures gone. 
Here my reverie was ended 

By a heavy step outside, 
Followed by terrific knocking, 

Then a man rushed in to hide. 
"Girl, conceal me, for my life's sake. 

For the sake of mother old. 
It is in your power to save me. 

Be angelic, true and bold. 

112 



As, now the month was May time, 
All the west seemed turned to gold 

At blissful close of daytime 
When that robin sang of old. 

Enraptured how I listened! 

Like that bird I had a mate. 
His eyes met mine and glistened. 

In their depths I read my fate. 

He'd heard the bugle sounded 

And responded to its call. 
And when I seemed astounded 

He caressed me — that was all. 

For language had no power 

His emotions to reveal, 
As blended love's sweet glower 

With a soldier's worthy zeal. 

He whispered love's old story, 
Then he said ''Dear little one, 

I'll share my fame and glory 
With you when the war is done.'* 

''Wait for me and be loyal," 
With fond kiss I sobbed I will, 

In uniform, how royal. 

He looked as he climbed the hill. 

For years war has been over. 
Still I watch for him in vain ; 

Was he a faithless lover. 
Or on field of battle slain? 

Its sad, true hearts must sever, 
Yet stern fate decrees they should, 

Still I'll be true forever 

With last kiss I pledged I would. 

But I must fill the bobbin. 
Oil this old machine and sew 

Till hushes that sweet robin 
Like one hushed so long ago. 

As to the bird I listened 

He seems strangely near, somehow, 
I see his dear eyes glisten. 

Feel his warm kiss on my brow. 



97 



But who can be encroaching 

On my dreary solitude? 
What footstep is approaching? 

Who can dare to be so rude? 

Some one would make confession 

Walks right in and shuts the door- 
Delight beyond expression! 

It's my old sweetheart once more. 

Since war in safe enclosure 
He has been forced to remain, 

111 from toil and exposure 

He was falsely judged insane. 

But this glad May time season, 
Doctors learned beyond all doubt, 

That he possessed full reason, 
So at last they turned him out. 

No oil, an empty bobbin, 
Still I have no time to sew, 

I'll listen to the robin 

With my love of long ago. 



SANTA CLAUS UP TO DATE. 

Old Santa Glaus sat at the far North Pole, 

Warm ripples of happiness thrilled his soul, 

Despite the bleak mountains of ice and snow, 

Despite the vast distance he soon must go. 

All his billions of Christmas toys were done, 

There was not a flaw in a single one ; 

And how they rattled, and glittered and gleamed, 

As Santa Glaus pondered, and smiled and dreamed. 

**I should like to make my journey this year 

In some novel way exciting and queer. ' ' 

He said to himself as he calmly mused, 

Over all the methods he ever used. 

''There's the old time sleigh drawn by fleet reindeer, 

Now that's no longer exciting or queer 

The railroad train and the automobile, 

Are understood fully from top to wheel. 

I think I shall make a glorious trip. 

In a brand new, up-to-date, grand airship. 

98 



I'll sail like a bird through the breezy blue, 

Dropping each home's gifts down it's own stove flue, 

In asbestos wrapped, so no lingering flame 

Can burn them, 'till found by first man or dame. 

Who cleans the grate in the usual way 

To light breakfast fire on glad Christmas day." 

So he built a new airship large and strong, 

Like a mammoth bird it could sail along. 

He piled on his billions of gifts and toys, 

For men and women, for the girls and boys. 

Whole tons for the rich, some few for the poor, 

Best presents must go where most cash is sure ; 

For Santa Claus needs a big lot of gold. 

To live a whole year in the Northland cold; 

So after he sells all his toys and gifts. 

He buys what he needs as back North he drifts. 

How proudly he mounted his huge machine! 

And swiftly he sailed from each icy scene ; 

But the midnight whir of those airship wings 

Awoke and bewildered all living things. 

A fearful cyclone was proclaimed by some, 

While gthers believed the world's end had come. 

How Santa Clause chuckled with glee and mirth ! 

To think what a shock he was giving earth ; 

But he laughed so loud, and he laughed so long, 

That he lost control of his airship strong, 

And it darted down with terrific force. 

Spilling all it's load as it fell, of course, 

Old Santa Clause landed without a hurt, 

Except that his gifts all lay in the dirt. 

And his grand airship was a total wreck, 

What luck such a fall never broke his neck! 

A terrible wind rose that very hour. 

And instantly blew with hurricane power. 

All presents were lifted and carried forth. 

To the East, to the West, both South and North. 

Ah ! the wind blew strong, and the wind blew hard. 

Till rich gifts lay scattered in every yard. 

Then there come a sweet and most blissful calm. 

All the great earth seemed full of white rose balm. 

For the wind had sealed every bottle's doom, 

Releasing whole barrels of choice perfume. 

Then the poorest came from the humblest dome. 

Gathering richest gifts to cheer heart and home. 

Santa Claus sure came in a novel way. 

And there never was such a Christmas day. 



99 



SAILING. 

Onward still, forever onward! 

Time's swift current bears my bark; 
Onward, with the blue dome yonder, 

Sometimes sunny, ofttimes dark, 
Sailing thus for many seasons. 

Hath this fragile life-bark been; 
Whither bound? For realms by mortals 

Ever dreamed of — yet unseen. 

II. 

Smoothly, ah! so very smoothly, 

Some days onward do I ride; 
Laugh and dance the sun-kissed waters, 

As I gently o'er them glide; 
All perceived is wondrous lovely, 

I've no wish the sails to furl. 
All my being thrills with rapture, 

I forget the gates of pearl. 

III. 

Starting soon I hear deep thunder. 

Dense clouds darken all the sky, 
Angry grows the tide and fiercely 

Doth it toss my bark on high; 
Lightnings flash, hoarse winds howl madly, 

I remember gates of pearl. 
Deep within my inmost bosom 

Wakes a longing, sails to furl. 

IV. 

Sweeping on to shores immortal. 

Would my bark could cease to shift! 
Weary, ill, I sigh to anchor, 

How much longer must I drift? 
Fearful hours in direful tempests 

Are unnumbered that I've seen; 
Golden hours (5f tranquil sailing 

"Very few for me have been. 

V. 

Sweeping on, ah! 'tis no matter 
How fierce billows foam and dash. 

Angels around this frail bark hover 
^+ can neither sink nor crash. 



100 



Golden strand, thereon safe landed, 
Some sweet day my sails I'll furl. 

Heaven's courts in triumph enter 
Thro' the gleaming gates of pearl. 



SHE HAS SWEPT THROUGH THE GATES. 
(Composed in memory of Mrs. Henry Toomey.) 

Our beloved has gone, her sweet spirit has flown, 
And we mourn her with tears and with sighs. 

For we loved her with love that no speech can make 
known, 
She has soared from our earth to the skies. 

Chorus. 

She has swept thro* the gates, the gleaming pearly gate^ 

And is safe now in Heaven, we know. 
There mid glory and bliss how she watches and waits 

For dear kindred and friends here below. 

n. 

Just as pure was her heart as the new fallen snow. 

And her life was as lovely as May. 
When the bright angels came she was longing to go. 

And they clasped, kissed, and bore her away. 

in. 

In white raiment arrayed, golden harp in her hand. 

And eternal life 's crown on her brow, 
Mid the holiest saints in the bright glory land 

She looks earthward and smiles even now. 

IV. 

Yes, looks earthward and smiles, she's too happy to sigh, 

Knowing well that we're all on our way 
To share every delight of those mansions on high. 

And forever there with her to stay. 

101 



SING TO MY HEART. 
(To the tune of ''As Pants the Heart/') 

Sing to my heart, my fond young heart, 

A song of love sincere, 
Which neither life nor deatii can part 

From what it holdeth dear; 
Sing to my heart, my fond young heart, 
Of love sincere, and free from art. 

II. 

Sing to my heart, my troubled heart, 

So sick of sin and pain. 
Some tender song whose magic art 

Shall give it rest again; 
Sing to my heart, my troubled heart. 
Some song whose power shall peace impart. 

III. 

Sing to my heart, my broken heart, 

Some sweet, pathetic psalm 
Whose notes unto each wounded part 

Shall prove a healing balm; 
Sing to my heart, my broken heart, 
A psalm to heal each wounded part. 

IV. 

Sing to my heart, my longing heart, 

A song to satisfy 
And thrill its very inmost part 

With bliss that cannot die; 
Sing to my heart, my longing heart. 
Give rapture that shall not depart. 



SOUVENIRS. 



I read of priceless souvenirs 

From each known place of fame, 
From almost every spot on earth 

Some precious trinket came. 
I longed for one from Paradise, 

But where could such be found? 
I searched the list of relics gleaned 

From all the world around. 
But mentioned found no specimen 

Of true celestial shine. 

102 



No token even was described 

From that bright world divine. 
I breathed a sigh of deep despair, 

I felt all hope was lost; 
No prize from Paradise, I cried 

Not one at any cost? 
Just then I saw a little child. 

With hair like sunshine gold. 
With blue soft eyes, like bluest skies. 

And face of faultless mold. 
This came from heaven, I exclaimed. 

An image miniature 
Of God himself . How beautiful! 

How radiant and pure! 
I clasped the wee one in my arms, 

Close to my beating heart; 
The happiness that thrilled my soul 

No language can impart. 
I smiled a cheerful, sunny smile 

That banished all my tears ; 
From Paradise the whole wide world 

Is full of souvenirs. 
Then hold the children fondly dear. 

For every little tot 
Is earth's celestial souvenir, 
God's own forget-me-not. 



STORY OF THE WHITE ROSE TREE. 

(I have simply woven into verse this touching little 
story so graphically told by Florence Barclay, in her 
** Wheels of Time." Merely placed in a poetic vase a 
bunch of choice roses or, as it were, have only framed 
in verse an exquisite picture.) 

As Florence Barclay this story first told 
Of the white rose tree which I now unfold, 
I just tell in verse what I read in prose- 
How a baby girl was denied a rose. 
By the garden path the fair rose bush stood, 
And it grew and thrived, for the soil was good. 
All among its leaves, so glossy and green, 
Each balmy, glad May white roses were seen. 
Once their fragrance bathed the rich mansion lawn 
At the twilight hour when the day was gone ; 
As the mistress sat with a friend at tea 
In the bluegrass yard near the white rose tree. 

103 



Then her baby danced down the gravel walk, 
With exquisite lips, just learning to talk, 
And bewitching eyes that like two stars beamed 
At sight of the bush where the roses gleamed. 
And a tiny hand was reached out in glee 
As she begged one rose from that loaded tree. 
The young mother, stern with her only child, 
Flashed a quick, cold look, and not even smiled. 
''See, friend, I have taught this dear little one. 
If I make no gift, she must ask for none. 
Proper training pays. Go to nurse, now, dear." 
That the child 's heart broke, to the friend was clear. 
For quivering lip, and suppressed half sob, 
Showed an anguish pang came with each heart throb. 
Up the gravel walk, what a slow retreat ! 
All the dance gone out of those tiny feet. 
And in silence thought the true friend unwed : 
Severe training fails, kindness wins instead. 
She returned that night to her own calm dome. 
Soon a message came from the mansion home, 
A childless mother mourns her baby dead — 
**Come at once" was all the telegram said. 
And when she entered that solemn death room 
The whole air seemed made of white rose perfume. 
Beneath a snow bank of white roses there 
Lay the baby girl with the golden hair. 
In the little hands, on the dainty feet, 
Round the golden head, lay white roses sweet; 
But silent and cold, just like marble there. 
The child, gave no heed to her rose shroud fair. 
While violent sobs shook the mother's form 
Till white roses fell like a rose snowstorm. 
Down close by her side knelt the friend unwed, 
For she guessed her thoughts, so she kindly said : 
"Take courage, dear heart, from the bush so tall. 
You have stripped each rose, now she has them all." 
''Yes, she has them all," the lone mother cried, 
"But the one small rose that she was denied 
Would have done more good when she asked it then, 
And that precious mouth will not ask again. 
Only thorns and leaves on each rose tree bough, 
Only thorns and leaves for my poor heart now; 
For angels have borne my life's rose away 
To blossom above till I come some day. 
I'll walk where God leads, do His will till then. 
And He'll give me back my sweet rose again. 



104 



STORY OF THE BABY AND CAT. 

(Written from an incident that occurred during the 
Kansas flood in the spring of 1903.) 

When the floods had wrought their ruin 

In the golden Sunflower State, 
When the war waged by the waters 

Was beginning to abate; 
Up the swiftly surging current 

Pushed a gallant rescue boat, 
Seeking anything of value 

In the river found afloat. 
There was every kind of debris 

Sweeping downward with the tide, 
Sometimes cold and lifeless people, 

Borne on waves by which they died; 
Fowls and animals by hundreds. 

All that's dear to heart and home, 
Hurried by in mad confusion 

On the restless, wrathful foam. 
Seen at last a distant something, 

Could the rescue party save? 
How they watched as it came nearer ! 

Each leaned far out o'er the wave. 
With great hooks they drew it to them. 

Infant's carriage, think of that! 
In each end a living creature, 

A sweet baby and a cat. 
On those wild and warring waters. 

Long that tiny bark had tossed, » 

Laden with its freight so precious. 

Yet was not upset, or lost. 
Baby dear was cold and hungry. 

Surely, so was kitty, too; 
Some one gave them food and shelter, 

How I often wonder who. 
And I also muse and question, 

Who was baby, young and frail? 
Had the flood drowned all its kindred? 

Where was mamma, sad and pale ? 
Her fond hands within the carriage, 

Must have placed both child and cat ; 
Angels guarded and preserved them. 

Story strange but true is that. 



105 



SING THE WORLD A SONG OF GLADNESS. 

Broken heart, breathe not your sorrows, 

For the sad world even now 
Groans beneath a billion burdens 

Which it bears, I know not how. 
Every breath of air is laden 

With a dirge of sobs and sighs. 
Misty with the rain of tear-drops 

From unnumbered aching eyes. 
Broken hearts, then breathe no sorrows, 

Bury them in depths unknown, 
Sing tlie world a song of gladness 

In a blithe, sweet, silvery tone. 



11. 



Broken heart, breathe not your sorrows. 

Lest the sad world grow more sad ; 
Seek for souls in denser shadow, 

Give them ease and make them glad; 
Use these holy balms and ointments; 

Truth and prayer, faith, hope and love, 
Tell about the grand forever 

In the blissful realms above. 
Lost in soothing others' sorrows 

You will best forget your own; 
Sing the world a song of gladness 

In a blithe, sweet, silvery tone. 

III. 

Broken heart, conceal your sorrows 

Ever from another's eye. 
Gently wipe the glistening tear-drops. 

Check the rising sob or sigh. 
And when life at last is ended 

And your hea^^^ cross laid down 
Christ will welcome you to Heaven, 

Wreathe your brow with starry crown; 
Golden harps and snowy raiment 

He will give you at his throne 
While you sing with saints and angels 

In a' glad, sweet, silvery tone. 



106 



SOAP BUBBLES. 

''Look, Pearl, what a beauty!" a merry boy cried 

As the soap bubbles rose high in air; 
''It's grand as a rainbow," the maiden replied. 

Then to catch it she ran here and there. 
"Oh, John, it is broken and vanished," she sobbed, 

"These bubbles are not what they seem; 
I touched it, ' ' she gasped, while her little heart throbbed, 

"And it fled like a beautiful dream." 

Chorus. 

Soap bubbles, like rainbows, wear every bright hue, 
Just like gems in the sunlight they gleam. 

Then break, while the poor hearts that chase them break, 
too. 
Soap bubbles are not what they seem. 

II. 

Thus oft what most charms us, mere bubbles will prove, 

For we chase each bright form like a child ; 
There 's happiness ; yonder is wealth ; 

Here is love ; are we only by bubbles beguiled? 
The bard truly sang, "All that gleams is not gold," 

Let us shun, then, the gaudy and gay. 
Lest life prove as worthless, when we have grown old, 

As the bubbles the child broke at play. 



SPARROWS. 



Out in the frosty yard I stood 

One drear December day, 
"While common sparrow multitude 

Chirped in plain sparrow way. 
Where hundreds of them on one tree 

Seemed in convention there, 
I thought what gathered them must be 

Important bird affair. 
The multitude all talked at once, 

Talked fast and lingered long, 
While I, no better than a dunce. 

Could understand the throng. 
Still what they planned, perhaps, I guessed. 

Planned how to keep most warm. 
For plainly did black clouds suggest 

A swiftly coming storm; 

107 



This, too, perplexed the multitude, 

At least 1 thought it did — 
Where could they glean their daily food 

If snow the whole earth hid ? 
I cried, "Take courage, sparrow throng, 

God will protect you all, 
To him doth all that is belong, 

Who marks each sparrow's fall. 
If deep snow covers all the earth 

His own he will defend; 
Abundant crumbs to scatter forth. 

Kind mortals he will send." 
I smiled, and fancied charmed to rest 

The throng grew at the sign; 
I wonder if they really guessed 

A single word of mine. 
What made them more contented seem? 

Big clouds looked no less black; 
At last they flew, left there to dream, 

Indoors I hurried back. 
IVe heard so many folks condemn 

The humble sparrow bird, 
Because always, from each of them, 

The same chirp, chirp is heard. 
But listen, thoughtless girl or boy, 

Gay woman or proud man. 
Whom little sparrows may annoy. 

They do the best they can. 
But whom do sparrows not annoy? 

You ask with scornful air. 
In field and garden they destroy 

So much of value there. 
If birds destroy somewhat, perchance. 

In garden and in field, 
By picking insects from the plants 

They swell the harvest yield. 
They must reap, though they cannot sow ; 

God gives us seed and lands, 
They only share what He makes grow, 

Through toil of human hands. 
Sow seed abundant in good ground, 

Trust heaven, and be true, 
An ample harvest will abound 

For all the birds and you. 
And when you end this earthly strife 

How richly you'll be blest, 
If like the sparrow all through life. 

You've done your very best! 

108 



So when sweet springtime comes again, 

With glad heart in each breast, 
Forgetful of bleak winter, then. 

Let sparrows weave their nest. 
And chirp in silvery sparrow tone 

To little sparrow mate, 
As if for happy birds alone 

God made this world so great. 



TAKING THEIR TURNS. 

A group of bright children 

Stood around a young horse, 
And every one clamored 

To ride him, of course ; 
Now, Joe, this is your turn; 

Next time will be mine ; 
So rang their clear voices 

Along down the line, 
'Till Bismark had carried 

The last happy child. 
Then each for another 

Brief ride was half wild. 

Chorus. 

Now, Joe, you had your turn, 

So this turn is mine ; 
Well here, Kate, be careful. 

Keep true to the line ; 
Go fast through this meadow 

And down yon hillside; 
Please hurry, for Arthur 

And Grace want to ride. 

II. 

In smiling, in weeping. 

In sorrow, in joy. 
There came a turn some day 

For each girl and boy. 
In pleasure, in business, 

In life's school to learn, 
In profit, in losses, 

They all took their turn, 

109 



And seemed just as eager 
Each new scheme they tried, 

As once when they waited 
The young horse to ride. 

Chorus. 

Years swiftly rolled onward, 

That sweet, childish band 
As grown men and women 

Too soon had to stand. 
Kate's turn came to marry, 

Same turn came for Joe ; 
Their turns all were given 

In weal and in woe; 
How oft mid life's changes 

Each looked back and sighed 
For horse and sweet childhood 

Whey joyfully they cried. 



THE SHERMAN CYCLONE. 

(Written just after that terrible storm swept Sher- 
man, Tex., near the close of the last century.) This 
song is sung to the music of ''The Star Spangled Ban- 
ner.'* 

Say, can you forget the dread Sherman cyclone ? 
The homes it destroyed and the lives that it blighted? 
The poor souls it hurled into regions unknown 
To stand before God, whom, perhaps, they had slighted? 
How dark was the hour, when the storm in full power. 
Swept o'er that fair town, dealing death in each shower! 
Oh ! say are the rose and the lily still grown 
On the graves that were made by the Sherman cyclone? 

II 

Fond parent and child, happy bridegroom and bride. 
Loved husband and wife, tender maid and true lover, 

Rudely seized by the storm, torn from each other's side. 
While the living half wild, sought their dead to recover. 
But their poor hearts lay hushed 
'Neath the great ruins crushed, 

And how pale was each face which so lately had blushed 
Oh ! say, do the winds and the waters still moan 
'er the lives that were lost in the Sherman cyclone ? 

110 



III. 

In its wrath that cyclone roars in memory still, 

While its fierce lightning gleams just as brightly as 
ever, 
Still we trust that fair town, now so free from all ill, 
Wears a crown of sweet peace which shall part from 
her never ; 
And may each breaking heart bid its sorrow depart, 
And be thrilled with new joy free from pain's cruel dart; 
Some bright day in heaven we shall meet 'round the 

throne 
Every cherished one lost in the Sherman cyclone. 



THE MUSTAKD PLASTER. 

It v/as midnight in the city 

And the multitude slept well. 
But two anxious ones were wakeful 

In a certain grand hotel. 
Husband, seized with sudden cramping. 

Plaintively did sigh and moan, 
Though long subject to such colic. 

This seemed worse than he had known; 
Always had it been wife's custom 

Mustard plaster to apply, 
So she said, ''I'll seek the kitchen 

And to make a poultice try." 
Soon the gas range blazed and sparkled 

And she quickly mixed her dope; 
*' That's as hot as Jack can stand it," 

Thought she with a smile of hope ; 
I must hasten to apply it. 

Place it now while steaming hot; 
Up the stairs she flew like lightning. 

Almost breathless, pausing not. 
All the guests were sleeping soundly 

As in golden visions wrapped. 
Till the wrong man's room she entered, 

Snatched his garments back, and slapped 
Red hot plaster on his stomach ; 

Then arose unearthly screams. 
Rousing every guest that instant, 

Banishing all sleep and dreams. 

Ill 



From their beds they leaped, half frantic, 

Yelling ^^ Murder!" ^'Robbers!" ''Fire!'' 
Woman in the wild confusion 

Found her own room one floor higher, 
Reached her husband's side and fainted. 

He, as if by magic cured, 
Hurried down to meet the landlord, 

Soon all guests felt reassured, 
Listening to his explanation, 

But not one of them forgot 
Fainting woman, frightened stranger. 

Mustard plaster, steaming hot. 
At the breakfast hour next morning 

Boarders met to laugh and jest. 
But their victim had departed. 

Where he went was never guessed. 



THROUGH HALLOWE'EN HAVOC TO CUPID. 

It was one night late in autumn, 

When the wind blew high and chill. 
And no more bright leaves and blossoms 

Were left for the frost to kill. 
These lay dead and widely scattered, 

All the world seemed bleak and bare. 
As I sat alone and pondered, 

And my whole heart broke with care. 
On that night all spooks were spooking — 

Both the unseen and the seen. 
Hoarse winds shrieked in ghostly voices: 

* ' Hallowe 'en ! " ' ' It 's Hallowe 'en ! " 
I felt weary, lonely, loveless. 

Sighing to myself I said: 
"Were I now a leaf or blossom 

I should rest unconscious, dead ; 
But my spirit is immortal, 

I must still live on and on, 
With the hopes of life all vanished, 

All its joys and pleasures gone. 
Here my reverie was ended 

By a heavy step outside. 
Followed by terrific knocking, 

Then a man rushed in to hide. 
''Girl, conceal me, for my life's sake. 

For the sake of mother old. 
It is in your power to save me. 

Be angelic, true and bold. 

112 



Girl, the mad mob is mistaken, 

I am guilty of no wrong. 
But will be unjustly murdered 

If I'm captured by the throng." 
"Quick, then, move that wardrobe forward," 

I commanded in low tone, 
''Crouch behind it in the corner," 

Then I faced the door alone. 
All my folks were out that evening, 

Watching an exciting play, 
I must act in one more thrilling. 

Though at home I choose to stay. 
Not one moment for reflection, 

I must let mere impulse guide, 
For the mob came fast pursuing 

The man I resolved to hide. 
At request the door I opened. 

Threw it back with all my vim ; 
' ' There 's a man we want, ' ' they muttered, 

' ' Somehow we lost track of him. ' ' 
*'Man," I sneered,' 'you've struck the wrong pew, 

Still, walk right on in and search." 
Then, except for night winds wailing. 

All grew silent as a church. 
Presently resumed the leader : 

"Have you seen no man tonight?" 
"I've looked for none," I retorted; 

"I detest a man outright. 
Years ago one of the scoundrels 

Won my heart, deserted me ; 
I look for a man — indeed, sir, 

Not a rascal should go free. 
Bowing coldly he responded, 

"Pardon our intrusion, Miss, 
Though he ran in some house close here, 

I'm convinced it was not this." 
Ah ! my ruse had worked like magic, 

And the man was safe within ; 
Though my heart kept beaxing wildly 

I seemed calm through all the din; 
Wondering what accusation 

Held their victim crouched in fear. 
There I stood with door wide open 

While the mob searched houses near; 
And I listened till the last sound 

Of receding footsteps died. 
Then I closed the door and locked it, 

Heaven ! was I safe inside ? 

113 



Forward, from behind the wardrobe, 

Not replaced against the wall, 
Stepped a man extremely handsome; 

He had dark eyes, and was tall. 
''Little heroine," he murmured, 

"Nobly you have saved my life; 
You will by tomorrow morning 

Know the cause of all this strife. 
I can very clearly, promptly, 

Prove my innocence, indeed. 
But must let this mad excitement 

Die, then legally proceed. 
Hidden there, can you protect me. 

For a time, perhaps a week? 
You will be rewarded richly." 

The affair seemed so unique 
That I on the impulse promised, 

And my word is good as gold. 
Like the law of Medes and Persians, 

In historic days of old. 
Scarcely had my pledge been given 

Till I realized its weight ; 
Still it was beyond recalling, 

Here was trouble, sure as fate. 
''I have made a rash, rash promise. 

Yet one I will not recall," 
I exclaimed." ''Be true," he faltered, 

"This will end right, after all." 
"But, sir, this is my apartment, 

"Which together we must share, 
For it would arouse suspicion 

If I took a room elsewhere; 
Then some member of the household 

In my absence might discern 
And reveal your place of hiding. 

Which I vow no one shall learn. 
At the slightest noise, hide quickly. 

Fully trust me to defend, 
And whatever comes, feel certain 

You at least have one true friend." 
"Little saint," he cried with fervor, 

"He who wins you for his queen 
Is most lucky of all mortals, 

Rarely is your equal seen." 
"When the show was out that evening 

All my folks were stopped and told. 
Of the fearful strange excitement. 

By the neighbors young and old. 

114 



I of course was called and questioned, 

All the facts asked to rehearse. 
Mother said : ' ' Since you are safe, dear, 

We rejoice it is no worse. ^^ 

Father called : ' ' Good-night, my brave girl. ^ ^ 

Chorus chimed : ' ' Brave girhjgood-night. 
Ah ) they little knew how bravely 

I had figured in the fight ; 
And how bravely still must battle. 

Knowing nothing else to do. 
*'This will end right," said the stranger, 

And his prophecy came true. 
Down I threw my own couch mattress, 

For the stranger on the floor; 
On the springs then tried to slumber, 

Haunted there by dreams galore. 
Never was the dawn so welcome, 

Never with such eager hand 
Had I grasped the morning paper. 

Thrilling columns soon I scanned. 
Starting with gigantic headlines: ^^ 
"Automobile Runs Down Child," 
*' Fugitive Escapes Pursuers," 

"Parents Prostrate, Almost Wild." 
Such was thought the situation 
For a trying time last night, 
But we state with keenest pleasure, 
Everything turned out all right. 
In the absence of his chauffeur, 

Edwin Truehart drove his car, 
Turning curve saw child fall near him. 

Mother's shrieks brought crowds from far 
Fearing the excited people, 

Owner left his car and fled ; 
Child had simply slipped and fallen. 

Though at first reported dead. 
Failing to secure their victim, 

Mob dispersing, learned the truth, 
And with mother of the infant, 

Feels chagrined, they should forsooth. 
City asks a thousand pardons, 
Justly Mr. Trueheart's due, 
And commands that crowds in future 

Take no steps till ordered to. 
Back into my room I hastened. 

Hurled the paper to the man, 
"Read this article,"! whispered, 
"Then forgive wrong if you can." 

115 



We who shared together sorrow, 

Dark with mystery and night, 
Now shared happiness as holy 

As the new dawns rose a light. 
''Offer no gift," I said firmly, 

''Fellow-student in life's school, 
I have only done my duty. 

Merely kept the golden rule; 
Some time you may help another. 

Vainly struggling in distress, 
If to me you feel indebted, 

Thus your gratitude express." 
'*T in coin could never pay you. 

Were I multimillionaire," 
He declared, "But I'll find some way 

My enormous debt to square. 
Startled by the bell for breakfast. 

Clasping hands we breathed farewell, 
"Slip through that side door," I cautioned, 

"And remember Pearl Uzelle," 
Nothing was discussed at breakfast 

But the horrible affair. 
Everybody seemed delighted 

That it proved a mere big scare. 
Somewhere I had read of Trueheart 

As rich railroad magnate grand. 
Now his youthful son's adventure 

I had shared as Fate had planned. 
Shortly Edwin called, insisting 

We should be forever friends, 
And at once begin our friendship. 

Its enjoyment never ends; 
Growing deeper, broader, nobler. 

Friendship ripened into love; 
He has asked my parents for me, 

And our marriage thej^ approve. 
He has told them the whole story, 

Of the part I played that night. 
His sweet words I often echo: 

"After all, this will end right. 
Once again it is late autumn, 

With the night wind high and chill. 
And no more bright leaves and blossoms 

Are left for the frost to kill. 
These lie dead and widely scattered, 

Still the world seems bright and fair. 
As I sit and chat with Edwin, 

With my heart so free from care. 

116 



Loved and loving, hopeful, happy, 

What's that memory just said? 
Were I now a leaf or blossom, 

I should rest unconscious, dead. 
Yes, but with a soul immortal, 

I can still live on and on. 
Nothing could increase my rapture 

But millenneum's glad dawn. 



THE BEAUTIFUL. 

What means this phrase, the Beautifull 

'Tis aught which most doth please 
The human eye or ear, but that 

Wherein one beauty sees. 
For some one else may not possess 

A single charm. What care 
We for the pebbles in our path, 

Save wish them all elsewhere? 
But these by the geologist 

To diamonds are preferred. 
The very roughest scorns he not ; 

For each one is a word 
In that grand book which Nature's hand 

Hath formed and therein traced 
The history of every age 

Which, since man first was placed 
Mid Eden's bowers, has come and gone; 

God vastly different minds 
Has given men, hence beauty each 

In different objects finds. 
Some see it in the bright-hued shells 

That strew the ocean's strand. 
And some in mighty waves that roar 

Kound vessels far from land. 
Some see it in clear silvery brooks 

That thro' green valleys flow. 
Some in great streams that madly plunge 

Down mountains crowned with snow. 
'Tis found by the zoologist 

In animals and birds ; 
He divides the various kinds 

Into separate herds 
And flocks. There's naught concerning them 

Which he hath not discerned. 
Amazed we list while he imparts 
To us all he hath learned. 
117 



In forms wherein before we saw 

Not even one slight trace 
Of beauty, he makes us perceive 

The most exquisite grace. 
"When no cloud veils the face of heaven, 

When lost are winter hours 
In the irrevocable past 

With rarest buds and flowers. 
Fair summer's hand adorns the earth. 

These to the botanist 
Are beautiful. He, ere from them 

The sun's warm rays hath kissed. 
The dewdrops, which among the leaves, 

Like gems most precious gleam. 
O'er all the landscape seeks them; close 

Beside a crystal stream. 
He pauses first — here daisies sleep. 

Flowers pure as is the snow. 
When first it falleth from the clouds 

They seem to murmur low. 
Thou, man wouldst thou the starry crown 

Of life eternal gain. 
Must keep thy soul, as is our hue, 

Unsoiled by any stain. 
Then wandering on, the botanist 

'Neath mosses half concealed, 
Discovers soon the violet; 

No herb or bloom doth yield 
A richer, rarer fragrance than 

It, as he o'er it bends. 
Examining its structure, from 

Its inmost bosom sends. 
It whispers, ''Man, lest as my head 

Thou in humility 
Thy spirit bow, thou unto God 

Cans't never pleasing be. 
By every object man observes 

He thus is something taught 
Of God supreme, omnipotent. 

Who all that is has wrought. 
When on their snowy pillows lost 

In blissful golden dreams. 
All others rest ; high in his tower, 

Kissed by the moon's soft beams. 
Stands the astronomer, and through 

His telescope, spellbound, 
Contemplates the nocturnal sky, 
The Beautiful is found 

118 



By him in those unnumbered stars 

Which there in splendor shine, 
And whisper to the bard, ''The hand 

That formed us is divine." 
In Nature's voice the Beautiful 

Is by musicians found. 
With wondrous skill they imitate 

Her almost every sound. 
They reproduce her softest tones, 

As heard in pearling rill, 
Also her very loudest peals, 

Her thunders fierce and shrill. 
The painter, physiologist 

And sculptor hold thai naught 
Which hath into existence by 

The infinite been brought. 
In perfection or loveliness 

Equals the human frame; 
But far more beautiful than all 

Else which man's lips can name, 
I deem the human soul. All else 

Must soon or late decay. 
The sun, the stars innumerable. 

Must sometime pass away. 
But in that world as heaven known. 

Secure from sin and pain. 
With God through all eternity 

The human soul shall reign. 



TAKE THOU MY HAND. 

Take Thou my hand, dear Savior 

And clasp it close in thine. 
Where thou hast left thy footprints 

I also would leave mine. 
Life's roughest paths I'll welcome, 

For I shall surely stand 
In steepest, darkest places 

If thou wilt hold my hand. 

II. 

Take Thou my hand, dear Savior, 
Fast hold it in thine own. 

I oft strayed where I would not, 
And fall when I'm alone. 

119 



I'm weak, but Thou art mighty, 
In thy strength would I stand, 

I shall not ever falter 

If Thou wilt hold my hand. 

III. 

Take Thou my hand, dear Savior, 

And if Thou will it so, 
From Olive's brow to Calvary 

With thee I'll gladly go. 
For death can have no terrors, 

If Thou beside me stand, 
I'll through it reach the pearl gates 

If Thou wilt hold my hand. 

IV. 

Take Thou my hand, dear Savior, 

Friend, brother, king divine. 
And let it rest forever 

Securely clasped in thine. 
'Neath clouds or in the sunshine, 

O'er flowers or desert sand. 
Till safe with Thee in glory. 

Dear Savior, hold my hand. 



THAT CITY BEYOND. 

In song and story so fervent and fond 

They banish my grief and my gloom, 
I hear of a wonderful city beyond, 

Beyond cruel death and the tomb. 
Its walls are of jasper, its twelve gates are of pearl. 

Its streets are all paved with pure gold. 
I pause in the midst of this life 's busy whirl 

That city by faith to behold. 

II. 

Its marvelous splendor and glory entrance 

My soul and bewilder my sight. 
Yet something more grand makes me yearn to advance 

And reach that blessed region of light. 
No sorrow is there, neither parting nor pain. 

No sickness, no more growing old, 
No losses, no burdens, no cross to sustain — 

'Tis heaven, by faith I behold. 

120 



III. 

No weariness then, but eternal repose, 

A sorrowful earthland is this. 
But no heart remembers, past worries and woes, 

"When once in that city of bliss, 
Its wealth and its wonders, its length, breadth and height, 

By mortal can never be told. 
Its builder is God, and Christ Jesus its light. 

That city by faith I behold. 

Chorus. 

Ah ! that city beyond, song and story most fond, 

Can ring with no holier theme. 
Soul, be steadfast and true, for no other goes through, 

Those pearl gates that glitter and gleam. 



THOSE TIMES AND THESE. 

You say the past was golden, dear. 

All fraught with joys and flowers. 
What time in any golden year. 

Excels these present hours? 
True, then our hearts beat high and fast, 

And smiles bedecked each brow. 
Yet nothing thrilled us in the past, 

Like these fond kisses now. 

Chorus. 

Love, when you think of those times, 

Then let your lips be dumb. 
But talk to me of these times. 

And better times to come. 
The past is o'er forevermore. 

Kegard it as you please. 
The present dear, the future near. 

Come, let us talk of these. 

II. 

True pictures memory has drawn 

Of all we loved of old. 
Still, with each charm, the past is gone. 

And each lies dead and cold; 
Then clasp the real every time, 

Unto no image bow; 
No moment passed, though once sublime. 

Is half so grand as now. 

121 



III. 

The past is dead, the present lives, 

The future is to be, 
Let every throb your warm heart gives 

Beat tenderly for me; 
My heart will beat the same for you, 

Remembering every vow, 
As in the past. Let both be true 

Each future day and now. 



THE DARKEST HOUR. 

Friend, do not be discouraged, though 
Each gleam of hope is gone. 

Remember that the darkest hour 
Is just before the dawn. 



II. 



The golden sun will soon resume 
His glory now withdrawn ; 

Since time began the darkest hour 
"Was just before the dawn. 

III. 

And just as long as earth revolves. 

And centuries roll on, 
The darkest hour will always still 

Be just before the dawn. 



IV. 



Live right each day, then you, no more 
Than harmless dove or fawn. 

Will dread the night whose darkest hour 
Is just before the dawn. 



Resplendent through the darkest night, 
Faith, love and hope shine on. 

Proclaiming that the darkest hour 
Is just before the dawn. 

122 



VI. 



Seek dreamland, then, when darkness falls 

O'er garden, field and lawn, 
Sleep sweetly, for the darkest hour 

Is just before the dawn. 

VII. 

Blest sleep will heal the wounded heart, 
Restore all strength that's gone, 

And soothe you in that darkest hour 
That's just before the dawn. 

VIII. 

And when at last life 's sun shall set, 
And death's cold night steals on, 

Take courage still, the darkest hour 
Is just before the dawn. 

IX. 

Death's tunnel ends at Heaven's gate, 

Fear not its dismal yawn. 
Pass through, and prove the darkest hour 

Is just before the dawn. 



THERE GOES A HEARSE. 

(This poem was written in 1900, suggested to the 
author by the words of her little 7-year-old son.) 

Ion's sweet eyes, so bright and true. 
See everything that comes in view ; 
Just now he looked across the street 
And said in accents low and sweet : 

'*0h! mamma, there goes a hearse." 

II 

The words, like an electric thrill, 
Sent through my soul a sudden chill. 
Some man, some woman, or sweet child 
Has crossed death's river, dark and wild, 
For surely, there goes a hearse. 

123 



III. 



The sable coffin borne inside, 
Perhaps beneath its lid may hide 
The cherished idol of some heart 
That breaks and bleeds in every part 
As, onward, there goes a hearse. 



IV. 



Again, perchance, the dead was left 
Of friends and kindred all bereft, 
"With none to clasp the dying hand 
Or whisper of that far-off strand. 
No matter, there goes a hearse. 



A new-made grave stands waiting now 
To close above that heart and brow, 
If with the sleeper all is well 
"We ask, yet only God can tell. 

As yonder there goes a hearse. 

VI. 

Again we look and all is o'er, 
The dark grave open yawns no more. 
So tightly closed 'till judgment day 
"Will angels guard it, who can say? 
Returning there goes a hearse. 

VII. 

Today I walk amid the throng. 
My warm heart beats so well and strong. 
And yet I know some future day 
A stranger shall look out and say: 
Look! yonder there goes a hearse. 

VIII. 

And I shall lie so cold therein, 
The city's clamor, clash and din. 
My sound repose shall not disturb 
As through the streets to the suburb. 
Unhindered, there goes a hearse. 

124 



IX. 



Though I perchance may die alone, 
Be laid to rest by hands unknown, 
To God I will commit my soul, 
I know the grave is not its goal. 

Though to it there goes a hearse. 



God gave His son the world to save, 
He came, He conquered death and grave, 
For me the pearl gates He'll unfold, 
"With Him I'll walk the streets of gold, 
Where, never, there goes a hearse. 



THE CAN ON THE LITTLE DOG'S TAIL. 

A gay, good natured young man 

In a little grocery store. 
While trade was dull one summer day. 

Stood just outside his door; 
I'll write my thoughts on love, he said, 

Sweet theme that grows not old ; 
Love cannot die, 'tis grander far 

Than beauty, rank or gold. 
Far better than that earth should be, 

Bereft of love divine, blot out the sun, 
the pale, soft moon. 
And all the stars that shine, 
Said he, *' Perhaps these words may win. 
Some fond heart through the mail, 
No, there's a cunning little dog, 

I'll tie them to his tail. 

Chorus. 

The can on the little dog's tail. 
Far swifter than Uncle Sam's mail. 
Love's sweet message bore 
To the wide open door 

Of the fair one it was destined to win ; 
The can on the little dog's tail, 
Although it caused many a wail. 

Brought rapture and bliss 
To both Mr. and Miss, 

And the dog found his portion therein. 

125 



II 



He seized the can, enclosed the note, 
And then securely tied 

The tin can to the little dog 
That ran and leaped and cried; 
Through streets and alleys far and near, 

'er lawn and grassy yard, 
The creature ran with lightning speed. 

And barked both fast and hard; 
And all the people paused and stared 

And marked the cruel shame, 
But none could catch the frightened dog 

They coaxed by every name; 
At last a lady young and fair 

The animal secured ; 
Poor little dear, she softly sighed. 

What pain you have endured. 

Chorus. 

The dog she nestled in her arms, 
And flung the can away. 
Just then she found, and read the note, 

I'll go without delay. 
And chide the heartless man, she said ; 

But when the couple met 
They loved each other at first sight, 

Both soothed the charming pet : 
And she with tenderness forgave 

His seeming cruel deed. 
And fondly pledged to be his bride. 

So nobly did he plead ; 
Through many golden future years 

The loving man and wife 
Kepayed the cunning little dog 

That joined their hearts for life. 



TWILIGHT. 

The quiet, hallowed twilight hour 
That poets call the gloaming. 

What spirit hath not felt its power ? 
Who welcomes not its coming? 



126 



'Tis then the rose in dreaming droops, 
Then maiden meets her lover, 

Then fairy trains and angel groups 
Around us seem to hover. 

II 

Each cherished form the grave doth mold, 

Each friend far distant roaming, 
All seemingly just as of old 

Rejoin us in the gloaming, ' 
We recognize each face and voice, 

So loved in years long vanished, 
And quite forget as we rejoice 

The spell must soon be banished. 

III. 

To weary wounded hearts no balm 

Is half so sweet and healing 
As dreamy twilight's blessed calm. 

It wakes divinest feeling. 
I fondly love the sunny day. 

Yet sigh not when it closes. 
Entrancing is the twilight grey 

When dew drops kiss the roses. 



TEARS AND RAIN. 

They are falling fast but gently. 

Cooling drops of winter rain. 
They are making soft, sad music. 

On the roof and window pane ; 
As I listen, o'er my spirit, 

Nameless mournful feelings creep 
'Till I with the clouded heavens 

Quietly, sorrowfully weep; 
Memory draws familiar pictures 

Which reality again 
Never 'neath the stars can bring me. 

Hence I weep as falls the rain. 

II 

First the days of sunny childhood 
Pass before my weeping eyes, 

With their thousands of enjoyments 
I'm no more to realize. 

127 



Days when grief and I were strangers, 

Days when heartaches were unknown. 
Keign of innocence and pleasure, 

Golden days forever flown. 
With deep anguish I recall them — 

Days exempt from guilt and pain, 
Still I weep and still it soundeth. 

Soft, sad music of the rain. 

III. 

All the days of dreamy girlhood 

Next my tearful eyes behold, 
Days of hope, superb air castles, 

Beautiful love chains of gold; 
But the hope in disappointment 

AVas too often doomed to end. 
While the castles fell before me 

As fast as they would ascend; 
And so many of the love chains, 

Beyond mending broke in twain; 
Still I weep and still it soundeth 

Soft, sad music of the rain. 

IV. 

Memory pictures all my dear ones 

In earth's bosom laid to sleep, 
Paints my little baby sister 

With her large eyes blue and deep; 
Daisy Deane we named this darling, 

Of her far too fond we were, 
Death first broke our family circle 

By bereaving us of her. 
Daisy was a tender blossom, 

And her loss wrought keenest pain. 
Still I weep and still it soundeth 

Soft, sad music of the rain. 

V. 

Death next took my angel mother — 

Took the kindest, fondest, best 
Of all friends God ever gave me, 

Dearer than can be expressed ; 
Never was my young heart broken 

While she dwelt beneath the sun 
Of my countless present sorrows 

'Till her death I knew not one, 

128 



And the cross, 'till then I felt not, 
Seems too great now to sustain, 

Still I weep and still it soundeth 
Soft, sad music of the rain. 

VI. 

Death then came for brother Jaky, 

Infant of but four brief years, 
And we laid him 'neath the church yard 

With unnumbered sighs and tears. 
Brother Chrissy of ten May times. 

Cruel death last tore from me, 
And thus cleft my heart so deeply 

That it never healed can be. 
'Till my earthly life 's last sunset. 

Sorrows cup my lips must drain ; 
Still I weep and still it soundeth 

Soft sad, music of the rain. 

VI. 

Four of us are 'neath the star gems, 

Four of us beyond them gone. 
Long I look upon the pictures 

Memory so well hath drawn, 
Robed in glistening, snowy garments. 

Singing to sweet harps of gold. 
Wearing crowns of life eternal. 

Now they number with God's fold; 
Gracious God, soon may I join them, 

'Tis so hard here to remain, 
Still I weep and still it soundeth 

Soft, sad music of the rain. 



THE WAITING TIME. 

Of all our times that come and go. 

Whatever be the gladdest. 
Each finds the waiting time, I know. 

The hardest, longest, saddest. 

II. 

'Tis fraught with heartaches, doubts and fears, 

With sobbing and with sighing. 
Deep longings, fervent prayers and tears, 

'Tis often worse than dying. 

12» 



III. 



It steals the light of lovely eyes, 

The bloom of gentle faces, 
It wears and wastes the forms we prize. 

And robs them of their graces. 



IV. 



It link by link oft tears apart 
The chains of love most cherished, 

The very chords that bind the heart. 
It gnaws 'till life is perished. 



V. 



The waiting time makes years of days. 
Whole centuries seem in it, 

We hail its close with shouts of praise, 
In agony begin it. 

VI. 

And none could ever live it through 
Were there not o'er it beaming, 

Faith, hope and love, these stars are few. 
But wondrous bright their gleaming. 

VII. 

To heaven by their light we climb. 
It thrills the souls of mortals 

To know there is no waiting time 
Beyond those pearly portals. 



TO MISS ROSE GREENLEAF ELLIOTT. 

The little violet, I own. 

Is beautiful and tender, 
Christ said one lily far outshone 

King Solomon in splendor; 
And yet in all earth's fairy bowers. 

Of all exquisite posies, 
The rose is crowned the queen of flowers. 

And thou art queen of roses. 

130 



II. 

All who behold this royal flower 

It thrills with love and rapture, 
Like it thou hast the magic power 

All hearts to charm and capture; 
To cheer and bless the fleeting hours, 

'Till life's brief summer closes. 
Bloom on. Sweet Rose, thou queen of flowera 

Live on, thou Queen of Roses. 

III. 

Each rose that sighs and blushes here, 

Each matchless rose must perish, 
But thou in some diviner sphere 

For purer souls to cherish. 
When done with this dark world of strife. 

Fair queen of rarest roses. 
Thou Shalt begin a glad new life— 

A life that never closes. 



TITAN CLAIMS TITANIC. 

She left her native English shore, 

In balmy April time, 
Wild song birds to the north once more 

Were back from southern clime. 

And joyous hope of spring at hand. 
Thrilled all the world's great heart; 

Then did superb Titanic stand 
Exultant to depart. 

Her maiden trip across the foam 
Would break all records past, 

And win fame for herself and home 
That through all time should last. 

Her captain showed no trace of fears 

In his triumphant look, 
Old ocean he had braved for years. 

And knew her like a book. 

Like mad rushed talent, fame and wealth, 
Aboard that floating dream, 

Till soon of wisdom, beauty, health. 
She held the very cream. 

131 



Titanic, queen of all the sea, 

Pride of her English home. 
Vast wonder of the world was she. 

Launched on the restless foam. 

To build her brightest gold had bought 

Best human skill and art — 
Designers, owners, builders thought 

Her perfect in each part. 

Tried out with honors she had been, 
Each test she grandly stood. 

If all earth crowned her ocean queen 
How fitting that it should. 

Farewell love signals were exchanged. 
By throng on ship and shore, 

While final details were arranged 
Till waited nothing more. 

At last the dangerous deep she plowed. 

Colossal palace grand, 
Prepared to furnish to her crowd 

Each pleasure known on land. 

No game or pastime had been missed — 

Pool, dancing, music, golf. 
Embellished her amusement list. 

Religion seemed marked off. 

Her gay saloons were all portrayed 

By papers everwhere. 
But who remembers mention made 

Of chapel built for prayer? 

She left Southampton at high noon, 

And from the zenith down 
The golden sun flung her his boon, 

A golden sunshine crowned. 

Then fast and far out on the deep 
She sailed each fleeting hour, 

Let giant waves in fury leap. 
She dreaded not their power. 

"Was she not as Gibraltar strong, 

Complete in every part? 
Self-confidant she sped along 

Man's masterpiece of art. 

132 



No iceberg warning checked her speed, 

All records she must break, 
Her maiden trip must win, indeed — 

Great issues were at stake. 

Five days rolled by and all went well, 

The mammoth ship rushed on, 
Who dreamed that night as twilight fell 

Of death before the dawn? 

As happy passengers and crew 

Gazed laughing on the wave, 
Of all those hundreds no one knew 

They viewed their liquid grave. 

The starry night was cold and clear, 

Like glass the ocean gleamed. 
The huge ship held her proud career 

And of no danger dreamed. 

Most passengers serenely slept, 

Felt safe as if at home. 
To crush Titanic, Titan swept 

Across the gleaming foam. 

Discerned near midnight, all too late, 

In form of iceberg foe, 
Old Titan sealed Titanic 's fate 

With one terrific blow. 

He dealt her one swift, sudden crash 

That rent her side in twain. 
No carpenter could heal that gash. 

All hope of life was vain. 

"With life belt, every one on deck," 

Kang wild the captain's shout. 
Suspecting anything but wreck, 

Calm passengers filed out. 

Life boats were lowered, men crowded one, 

Another order rang: 
''Save women first," no gatling gun 

Could wound with keener pang. 

For just one-third of that vast throng 

Would fill all lifeboats there ; 
The rest, though cultured, rich and strong. 

The doomed ship's fate must share. 

133 



Eank, gold and diamonds have no power 

With grim old monster death; 
No wealth can save in life's last hour, 

But riches of true faith. 

Loved husbands some wives would not leave, 

But clasped them with firm cry 
''Till death together we will cleave, 

And then together die." 

Friend, father, brother, husband, son, 

Names every soul reveres, 
Seemed lisped a thousand times, each one 

In agony and tears. 

As men in boats with tenderest care 

Placed wife and children dear, 
Then turned and with heroic air 

Joined comrades in the rear. 

Fair women sobbed, sweet children wept, 

With kiss and last good-by, 
Still noble men their courage kept. 

Though soon to drown and die. 

Then honor men — not one abhor, 
Crown all with flowers and stars; 

For woman, both in peace and war, 
Man toils, bears wounds and scars. 

And even death, brave hero grand. 

For her would fain endure ; 
Man well deserves the heart and hand 

Of woman true and pure. 

Two hours and twenty minutes passed 

From crash till closing scene; 
To bottom of the ocean vast 

Then dashed the ocean queen. 

Plunged down two thousand fathoms deep, 

With all her treasure vast. 
Their sympathy all nations weep, 

She broke all records past. 

For never yet dashed ship so great 

To death in time so brief. 
Hers was a record-breaking fate 

That bows the world with grief. 

134 



While architects and builders wrought 

To fashion her each day, 
"Was wise celestial guidance sought, 

I wonder. Who can say? 

Had reverence and devotion share 

In saw and hammer clang? 
Breathed any soul one fervent prayer 

While anvil chorus rang? 

Whatever Deity controlled, 

While toilers drove each nail, 
Named for myth, Grecian god of old, 

The finished ship set sail. 

Did Titan, heathen god of Greece, 

His own Titanic claim? 
Named for the Christian's god of peace, 

Would she have fared the same? 

To him her throng appealed at last ; 

** Nearer, my God, to Thee" 
They sang as down their ship was cast 

To bottom of the sea. 

I think all heaven must have wept. 
And hell, too shocked to shout, 

Watched death's parade and silence kept, 
While that soul-host marched out. 

From heaven, far beyond the blue 

Where planets gleam above, 
The living God, eternal, true, 

Calls out in tones of love : 

*'Let whosoever will, sail free 

On ship of Zion old. 
The one life ship with guarantee 

To reach the strand of gold." 

Unblemished still by storm or wreck, 

Through all her long career. 
Rejoicing millions from her deck 

Are landed year by year. 

In all the universe so broad, 

Through never ending space. 
There is no safety without God, 

Safe with Him any place. 

135 



UTOPIA. 

Upon what landscape do I gaze? 

What marvelous grandeur greets my eyes? 
It far surpasses aught on earth, 

This must be Paradise. 

II. 

Awake, or in the sweetest dream 
That ever came with peaceful sleep 

I ne^er beheld such loveliness, 
Nor drank joy half so deep. 

III. 

I now perceive that 'tis an aisle. 

This wondrous world whose soil I press 

Bends o'er it heaven's boundless blue, 
Forever shadowless. 

IV. 

An ocean vast all round it rolls, 
And seemingly its sunkissed blue. 

Is infinite as that above. 
And quite as tranquil, too. 

V. 

The carpet that adorns the aisle 
Is velvet grass of brightest green. 

All thickly gemmed with rarer blooms 
Than ever earth has seen. 

VI. 

Embroidered round with snowy sand, 
Heaped with unnumbered fairy shells 

Of every shape and every hue 
Wherein true beauty dwells. 

VII. 

Gay silvery founts, cool crystal springs, 
Gleam here and there to glad the aisle. 

Each flower and fruit famed Eden bore. 
Exists here all the while. 



136 



VIII. 

The gentle fragrance-laden air 
Is vocal with the thrilling lays 

Of all the sweet-voiced birds that breathe, 
They give God ceaseless praise. 

IX. 

I ramble 'neath exquisite bowers 
Whereon ten million roses blush, 

And now observe there are no thorns, 
Not one on any bush. 

X. 

The rose without the cruel thorn, 

Conclusive proof to me is this, 
That naught save what delights is here, 

I roam the realms of bliss. 



XI. 



I wandered to an orange grove. 
The large, delicious, golden fruit 

Weighs down the boughs whereon it clings, 
No longer am I mute. 

XII. 

** Grand, glorious this Paradise!^' 

Ecstatically my lips exclaim, 
Am I, its sole inhabitant, 

Hark! some one calls my name. 

XIII. 

From out a group of orange trees 

Emerge five human forms well known; 

I clasp, I kiss them o'er and o'er. 
My idolized, my own! 

XIV. 

Ah! now I realize at last 

What I so oft have wished could be ; 
Alone with my adored I'm on 

An isle mid some v^ast sea. 



137 



XV. 

Yes, she is here, beside whose chair, 
So oft in vanished golden days, 

I've knelt while tenderly she sang 
Some song of love or praise. 

XVI. 

And ah! the self-same dear guitar 
So willingly she sounded then 

I notice in her cherished hands, 
I'll hear its notes again. 

XVII. 

These two are here, most honored pair, 
More noble men I never knew; 

Nor do I think such ever breathed 
Beneath yon heaven's blue. 

XVIII. 

Abhorers both of all things ill, 

I oft have wished that they could meet, 
And now as arm in arm they stand 

How high my heart doth beat ! 

XIX. 

And these are here, my old classmates, 
One tall and stately as a queen. 

Calm, dignified, with not one trait 
We designate as mean. 

XX. 

The other in the bloom of youth 
Is slight in form ; has raven hair ; 

She too is lovable and good. 
With face and soul both fair. 

XXI. 

To number with this little group 
In direst dungeon would be bliss, 

What must it be to dwell with them. 
On such an isle as this? 

138 



XXII. 

Felicity, divine, complete, 

Thro' all eternity to last, 
Hark! Whence that sound? What wrought this 
change ? 

Delusion unsurpassed ! 

XXIII. 

I find I've merely been asleep, 
The closing of a heavy door 
vroke me; bitter, burning tears 
My weary eyes outpour. 

XXIV. 

The dreamland, fair Utopia, 

So very real did it seem, 
It wounds and almost breaks my heart, 

To think I did but dream. 



UP IN THE BREEZY BLUE. 

Come, little dear, take a trip with me, 

Up in the breezy blue. 
Off toward the stars we will bound in glee, 

Pledging our faith anew. 
Higher than fleetest of birds can fly, 

Swiftly I'll sail with you. 
Far above clouds we will rest on high, 

Lost in a sunshine view. 

Chorus. 

Up in the breezy blue, 
Happy alone with you. 

Heedless of gale, 

In airship we'll sail, 
High in the breezy blue. 

II. 

Still we will soar as the hours glide on, 

Up in the breezy blue, 
Telling our love till the day is gone, 

Cheering our hearts so true. 

139 



Stealing anon such a tender kiss, 

Heaven seems just in view, 
Love in an airship, how grand ! what bliss ! 

High in the breezy blue. 

III. 

Hundreds have ventured for fame or gold 

Up in the breezy blue, 
Only for love would I be so bold, 

Love that is tried and true. 
Soaring with you I forget all fear, 

Happy to sail space through. 
Fain would I stay and explore each sphere 

High in the breezy blue. 



UNLICENSED NELL. 

In the time of fragrant roses, 

When the birds were all in tune, 
Out in pleasant city suburb 

One delightful afternoon, 
Dogs and children romped together, 

Oh, what happiness was there! 
All at once the scene of gladness 

Changed to one of wild despair, 
Every child grew pale and trembled. 

Ran for home and loudly cried, 
** There's that wicked old dog-catcher, 

Help me coax my pet inside." 
Then one little heart was broken 

By a plaintive, piercing yell. 
And a frightened voice shrieked, ''Mamma, 

Stop him. There he goes with Nell." 

Chorus. 

Nell was gone, she had no license; 

Katie's papa did not care. 
Called the dog a worthless nuisance. 

Said he had no coin to spare. 
By her gate the child stood weeping, 

Stranger passed and questioned why. 
Next day Nell, with tag and collar. 

Walked in home and did not die. 



140 



Child and dog once more together 

Komped as gayly as of old; 
One dark night Nell proved a treasure, 

Worth her weight in shining gold. 
Though the rain poured down in torrents, 

All the sleeping household dreamed. 
Thunder pealed. At last the kitchen. 

Struck by lightning, brightly gleamed. 
Faithful Nell sprang to the window. 

Scratched and barked till family woke, 
And their lives and home soon rescued 

From the blaze and stifling smoke. 
Every year she lived tnereafter, 

First to get new tags was Nell, 
Still to strangers, neighbors often 

This sad story used to tell. 



UNSATISFIED. 

When last of all his marvelous works 

Jehovah created man. 
With glorious Eden for his home, 

Describe which no language can, 
And crowned him the Monarch absolute 

Of the rest of earth beside, 
'Tis hardly possible to believe 

He still was unsatisfied. 

II. 

He should rule the world, and Paradise 

His palace superb should be, 
While he should untouched, untasted, leave 

The fruit of a certain tree; 
''But why not taste and grow wise?" he mused, 

''Why am I wisdom denied?" 
He ate, forfeited infinite bliss. 

By being unsatisfied. 

III. 

Foul sin, cruel death, unknown till then. 
At will roamed the vast world now. 

Far driven from Eden's hallowed bowers, 
Man by the sweat of his brow 

141 



Must thenceforth live, few hearts have since throbt 

That have not oft deeply sighed, 
Lamenting that those first human hearts 

Were ever unsatisfied. 

IV. 

Each century since has at its death 

Beheld man of greater worth, 
More cultured in body, mind and soul 

Than it found him at its birth. 
The bosoms of ocean and earth concealed 

Rare jewels for which he sighed, 
They gave him the choicest glittering there, 

Still he was unsatisfied. 



When wisdom came with her rarer gems 

And scattered them at his feet 
The history of all ages past 

He heard the pebbles repeat. 
Each truth learned, his hand with skill transferred 

Ere it from his mind could glide 
To whatever would preserve it best. 

Still he was unsatisfied. 

VI. 

All the forces of Nature he has tamed, 

And subjected to his will. 
These tire not, they turn for him with ease 

The wheels of the mighty mill. 
They give the huge trains their lightning speed. 

And move the proud ships that ride 
The fiercest billows that rage, unharmed. 

Still man is unsatisfied. 

VII. 

These powers have deposited for him 

All the knowledge he has gained 
In millions of precious, well-bound books. 

Forever to be retained. 
They've done still more. Throughout the whole earth 

And over the ocean's tide, 
One lightning flash and man sends his thoughts; 

Still he is unsatisfied. 

142 



vin. 

Ofttimes he gazes fondly and long 

On the drooping, dreaming flowers, 
''Stars which in earth's firmament do shine, '^ 

Called by a dear bard of ours. 
He classifies these exquisite blooms. 

While all the choice sweets they hide 
Within themselves, they yield him. Alas, 

He still is unsatisfied! 

IX. 

Each gleaming cluster of all-hued stars 

That circles the brow of night 
Man names and into its separate stars 

Resolves with intense delight. 
He learns that they all are worlds and suns, 

And his bosom swells with pride ; 
What countless mysteries he has solved! 

Still he is unsatisfied. 



On its sacred leaves a sacred book 

Describes a heavenly home, 
All paved with pure gold, with gates of pearl, 

Where nothing that's ill can come. 
When man his creator disobeyed, 

He lost Eden — lost beside 
Heaven, that beautiful, blissful home, 

Where none are unsatisfied. 

XI. 

'*But God," continues our blessed book, 

**So loved the world that he gave 
His only begotten son" to die, 

Man from perdition to save. 
And when man shall cross o'er death's dark sea, 

And at his Creator's side 
Stands praising his name with bright angel ranks 

He then shall be satisfied. 



143 



UNBAR THE DOOR. 

Hark ! now at the door of thy sin-darkened heart 

The Savior knocks loudly and long. 
Admit Him at once lest He turn and depart, 

He comes to redeem thee from wrong. 
Thy countless transgressions His blood will blot out, 

They shall be remembered no more. 
Repent and believe, do not question and doubt, 

But haste to unbar thy heart's door. 

n. 

Hark ! close at the door of thy sorrow-sick heart, 

The Savior stands lovingly still, 
And patiently knocks. Do not bid Him depart, 

He comes to relieve thee from ill. 
Each hot tear of anguish He'll wipe from thine eyes. 

Balm into each wound He will pour, 
And bear all thy burdens. Poor sinner, be wise. 

And haste to unbar thy heart 's door. 

HI. 

Hark ! still at the door of thy hard, stubborn heart. 

The merciful Savior doth knock. 
O wonderful love ! He forbears to depart, 

Tho' thou art unmoved as a rock. 
How canst thou refuse and resist such a friend? 

Repent and His pardon implore. 
His infinite goodness no longer offend, 

But haste to unbar thy heart's door. 

Chorus. 

Unbar thy heart's door, unbar thy heart's door. 
Ah! haste to unbar thy heart's door. 
Repent and believe, the dear Savior receive. 
And thou shalt rejoice evermore. 



VASE, SHELL AND PICTURE. 

I noticed a beautiful vase 

As I stood by an elegant stand, 

But gone were its value and grace, 

Though round it clung odors most grand. 

144 



Once roses and lilies it bore, 

Rare buds and sweet violets blue, 

But now it was treasured no more, 
'Twas just a vase broken in two. 

II. 

I picked up a delicate shell 

As I walked on the beach by the sea, 
Pressed close to my ear it did tell 

A wonderful story to me. 
Some creature once made it its home, 

In comfort and safety did dwell, 
But now it was cast from the foam 

As only a poor empty shell. 

III. 

I opened an album one day. 

As I slowly turned leaf after leaf, 
Like birds flew my thoughts far away, 

And my heart broke with longing and grief. 
I paused, here and there, o 'er a place, 

'Twas only an image, that's all. 
Just something resembling a face, 

Fond memory loved to recall. 

Chorus. 

Only a broken vase, 

Only an empty shell. 
Only a picture that looked like a face 

Fond memory loved so well; 
Gone were the flower gems rare. 

Gone was the life from the shell. 
Gone all the sweetness that face used to wear, 

Which memory loved so well. 



VALENTINES. 

Dreamed of for many bright weeks past 
The day in splendor dawned at last — 
Glad day of good St. Valentine — 
When wild birds mate and souls entwine ; 

145 



And all the people of all lands 

Through eyes and lips and hearts and hands 

Impart true love, well understood, 

By all earth's human brotherhood. 

A lonely orphan child awoke, 

Felt no one cared if her heart broke; 

Would anybody send one line 

To her in friendly Valentine? 

The only child of parents dead 

The blooms she craved proved thorns instead; 

And ever drifted here and there 

She felt no welcome anywhere. 

Still she was blessed with charming looks, 

And skill to master all her books. 

And wealthy children envied Pearl, 

The ill-clad little orphan girl. 

She sighed: the golden warm sunshine 

To earth is heaven's valentine, 

And in its radiance must be 

A gleam of love for even me. 

The school bell rang the hour of nine. 

For her it meant no Valentine; 

And to the music of that bell 

That sounded like a funeral knell 

She marched in silence to her seat ; 

Marked all the smiles on faces sweet, 

And shrank from eyes whose very shine 

Foretold expected valentines. 

Jack Clifton sat across the aisle 

And seemed to watch her all the while, 

And fearing he might guess her thought 

She strove to study as she ought ; 

But fancy read between the lines 

All names but hers on valentines. 

Till sudden tear drops burning hot 

Fell on her page and left their blot. 

At last she knew by sounds and signs 

The teacher passed the valentines. 

''Come, Pearl," she called, "here is one for you;" 

It seemed a fairy dream untrue, 

So rich in color and design. 

Her own exquisite valentine. 

Deep hidden in its satin bed 

She found a little note which read: 

''Dear Pearl, my parents offer you 

A home with us your lifetime through; 

Accept the gift schoolmate of mine. 

Our home shall be your valentine." 

146 



Jack Clifton's name signed just below 

Explained why he had watched her so; 

And after school dismissed that day 

He proudly walked beside Pearl Gray 

And took her to his home so fine, 

Thenceforth her own loved valentine. 

One night when school days long had flown 

Jack said to Pearl in tender tone, 

** Twelve years tomorrow, sweetheart mine, 

Since you got my first valentine, 

Tomorrow be my own dear wife, 

My precious valentine for life." 

Next day's last kiss of warm sunshine 

Sealed those two hearts one valentine. 



VERSE OFFERING FOR THANKSGIVING. 

This, our country of the free. 

Chief among great nations ranks; 

For all good bestowed on thee. 
Land of Liberty, give thanks. 

Use each art to music known, 
Every instrument of fame. 
Ring deep bells of every tone, 

Long and loud thy thanks proclaim. 

Shout and sing from sea to sea, 

"Wheresoever man is found ; 
Swell the anthem of the free. 

Let the hymn of thanks resound. 

Firmly at our Nation's helm 

Stands a ruler grand and good. 

Every being in our realm 
Has true cause for gratitude. 

You who needs must toil for bread. 
Thankful be for strength to strive ; 

You who boast of wealth instead 
Thank God that so well you thrive. 

Heir of poverty or wealth. 

Born to labor or to rest, 
Child of sickness or of health. 

Still you are divinely blest. 

147 



Gracious heaven daily showers 
Millions of rare blessings down ; 

Watch and grasp them through the hours, 
Seek rich jewels for your crown. 

Not alone for treasures strive 

In the bosom of the earth; 
Deep into faith's ocean dive, 

Gather pearls of wondrous worth. 

Fathom knowledge, wisdom, truth, 

Covet their immortal gems ; 
Search for them in early youth. 

Fit for angel's diadems. 

Good is oft concealed in woes, 
Shrink not from the cruel thorn, 

Seize the fragrant, blushing rose 
Cooled with dew and newly born. 

Prize each blossom, bird and tree, 
Prize sun, moon and stars above, 

For life's comforts thankful be. 
Let each heart-throb beat in love. 

Prize pure water and fresh air. 

Value raiment, shelter, food; 
For all blessings everywhere 

Thanks return in gratitude. 



WHERE WILL YOU SPEND ETERNITY? 

You say in the warm early summer, 

According to custom and rule, 
''I'll go to the glorious mountains 

Where all is delightful and cool." 
You say in the first days of winter, 

"Earth here will be barren and bleak, 
Where all the year round bloom the roses. 

The sweet, sunny South I will seek." 
But what of eternity, dear one ? 

This have you considered, my friend? 
Think earnestly, where will you spend it ? 

For surely you will have it to spend. 

148 



II. 



For all there exists but two places, 

Dark hell with its horror and woe, 
And blissful, bright, beautiful heaven; 

To which of these realms will you go ? 
Eternity swiftly is coming. 

Death ^s angel today may descend, 
While yet there is time, then, make ready. 

Where will you eternity spend ? 



III. 



The poor cannot seek pleasant regions 

In summer for cool mountain breeze, 
Nor fly to the southland in winter. 

Away from the snowfall and freeze. 
But they have free access to heaven. 

Through Christ all who will may ascend. 
He died for our lost world *s redemption, 

Where will you eternity spend ? 



IV. 



The road that is plain, broad and flowery, 

To realms of perdition leads down. 
The dim, rugged path, straight and narrow. 

Through Paradise leads to God^s throne. 
Cling closely to Christ, and press onward. 

Be faithful and true to the end, 
You thus cannot fail to reach heaven, 

Where will you eternity spend ? 



Go search the divine, Holy Bible, 

God^s will is to man there revealed. 
To Christ all who come in repentance 

And faith, shall be pardoned and healed ; 
And they shall have life everlasting. 

And reign with Him, world without end. 
In love, bliss and glory forever, 

Where will you eternity spend? 



149 



WHY? 

Why our hearts are cleft and bleeding, 

Why our fondest hopes decay; 
Why, without one moment 's warning 

Those most loved are snatched away. 
Why our tenderest ties are broken. 

Why our fairest flowers die. 
If we trust in God supremely, 

Some sweet day we shall know why. 

II. 

Why our brows must wear the thorn crown, 

Why we bend beneath the cross, 
Why we drink such bitter sorrow, 

And sustain such heavy loss. 
Why our plans prove disappointments, 

Why our golden visions fly. 
If we trust in God supremely. 

Some sweet day we shall know why. 

III. 

Not in cruelty but kindness 

Are the worst afflictions sent. 
Every trial and bereavement 

Is for some good purpose meant. 
We shall understand the wisdom 

Of God's dealings by and by. 
If we trust in Him supremely, 

Some sweet day we shall know why. 

IV. 

Always, everywhere, in all things. 
Let us cling to God and trust, 

Leave to Him the why and wherefore. 

He is merciful and just. 

In this world of sin and trouble 
We must suffer, toil and sigh. 

If we trust in God supremely. 

Some sweet day we shall know why. 



With the faith of little children, 
To Christ Jesus let us cling. 

All His followers to heaven 
He will safely, surely bring. 

150 



Through Gethsemane to Calvary, 
Tho' perchance our path may lie, 

If we trust in God supremely, 

Some sweet day we shall know why. 



VI. 



When at last we enter Heaven, 

In that world's eternal bliss, 
"Who will count the hardships suffered 

In our pilgrimage through this? 
We shall sing with saints and angels. 

Glory be to God most high. 
All on earth is right forever. 

Glory ! now we know just why. 



WHEN? 



When will you turn to the Savior, 

Dear ones abiding in sin? 
When will you sue for His favor? 

When will you pray to be clean ? 
When will you plead for His pardon? 

All who repent. He'll forgive. 
When will your heart cease to harden? 

When will you trust Him and live ? 



II. 



''Now is the day of salvation," 

When from God's wrath will you flee? 
Christ gives a sweet invitation, 

''Weary one, come unto me." 
Life 's holy stream down the mountain 

Flows still from Calvary's cross. 
When will you plunge in the fountain? 

Wash from the gold all the dross ? 

III. 

When will you cease idly shifting. 

Hopelessly lost in the dark ? 
When will you weary of drifting? 

When will you anchor your bark? 

151 



Vain is all here that you cherish, 
Read the sweet story again. 

No true believer shall perish. 
You want salvation, but when? 

IV. 

Christ is the spirit's physician, 

Me makes eternally whole. 
When will you come in contrition. 

Bring Him your poor, sin-sick soul? 
When will you stand all forgiven, 

Happy in Jesus and pure ? 
He is the gateway to heaven. 

When will you entrance secure ? 



WAITING THE SOUND OF WHEELS. 

'Tis January Seventeenth, 

Eighteen eighty-nine, 
As in May or June 
Doth the golden sun 

In all his splendor shine. 
So, silently to sister's heart 

A restless feeling steals 
That has hushed her song. 
And she listens long 

To catch the sound of wheels. 



II. 



He whom she loves his promise gave 

To visit her today. 
And her heart beats fast 
As each hour is passed — 

She ill brooks his delay. 
The deepening blush that dyes her cheeks 

More than she deems reveals 
As she meditates 
And eagerly waits 

To catch the sound of wheels. 



152 



III. 



She pictures him as grand and good, 

His voice is calm and low. 
He never could make 
A vow he would break, 

At least, she fancies so. 
Reposing in a rocking chair, 

Her lips she tightly seals 
And quietly dreams 
And frequently seems 

To catch the sound of wheels. 

IV. 

A vision of some future day 

Now thrills her with delight, 
It paints a young bride 
By his darling side, 

Within a cottage bright. 
The cottage is their own dear home, 

His fond arm round her steals. 
And her heart beats high. 
No more does she sigh 

To catch the sound of wheels. 

V. 

But did the lover keep his word. 

Or prove untrue to her, 
Dear reader unknown, 
Form views of your own 

I dare say you'll not err; 
We'll trust that 'tis incarnate truth, 

This throne at which she kneels, 
No cloud dims her brow 
As we leave her now. 

Waiting the sound of wheels. 



WHAT CAN HOLD THAT SWEET BIRD HERE? 

Sounds a liquid note of music 

On the cold December air, 
Just as silvery, soft and mellow 

As in May time, warm and fair. 

153 



How it thrills me at my fireside, 
As it falls on heart and ear; 

In my solitude I wonder 

What can hold that sweet bird here? 



II. 



To the flowery, sunny southland, 

It with ease could swiftly fly. 
Still it lingers here and shivers. 

And I cannot fancy why. 
I am bound to this bleak northland, 

By a little grave most dear, 
But in vain my poor heart questions, 

What can hold that sweet bird here? 

III. 

Dearest mate, or baby birdling. 

Has the lone one loved and lost ? 
Is there tie like mine that binds it 

To this realm of snow and frost ? 
As I ponder I can only 

Breathe a sigh and drop a tear. 
While I ask but cannot answer, 

What can hold that sweet bird here? 



WORDS OF TRUTH. 

One word of truth much more I prize 
Than sin's whole catalogue of lies. 
One just rebuke is better far 
Than all art's honeyed flatteries are. 
If the whole world so proud and cold 
Were mine with all its power and gold, 
I would exchange it, gladly, too, 
For one fond heart that loved me true. 
Take all the gold of all the earth — 
Without true love, what is it worth ? 
True love without one bit of gold 
Is worth all worlds and all they hold. 
Though we the world can ne'er possess. 
True love is perfect happiness, 
And wisdom down at beauty's feet 
Can lay no gift so rich and sweet. 

154 



WHERE IS OLD MRS. SANTA GLAUS? 

You all know Christmas time is here, 
It comes to crown each closing year, 
And just the same delights almost 
It always strews from coast to coast. 
So I've not come in speech sublime 
To tell you it is Christmas time. 
I'm puzzled— and I'll state the cause, 
Where is old Mrs, Santa Claus? 

II. 

No Cook or Peary turns my head, 
I don't care what they wrote and said; 
They never lit near that north pole. 
Why, Santa Claus, the dear old soul, 
Though gone perchance, there stood his home, 
Unique from cellar floor to dome ; 
Built of clear ice that never thaws. 
Where is old Mrs. Santa Claus? 

III. 

Now don't you know if those two men 
Near that north pole had ever been 
They would have given each detail 
Of that ice palace without fail. 
And told the very day and hour 
Each placed Old Glory on its tower. 
Their stories all are full of flaws. 
Where is old Mrs. Santa Claus? 

IV. 

Those frauds don't say one word to show 
If such a person lives or no. 
Old Santa's home they quite ignore. 
With thick fur carpet on each floor. 
Big ice-rooms lit and warmed each one 
By silver moon and golden sun. 
Who answers first wins most applause, 
Where is old Mrs. Santa Claus? 

V. 

It's bachelorhood, it seems to me, 
Keeps St. Nick always full of glee, 
No little darlings of his own, 
He loves each child in every zone. 

155 



In far-off lonely, icy climes 
He makes our toys for Christmas time. 
He 's coming, who '11 ask ? Let 's draw straws, 
Where is old Mrs. Santa Claus? 



VL 



For once St. Nicholas dropped a tear, 

And said, **For all I give each year 

I only crave one gift from you; 

Yet ask in vain the whole world through — 

All shiver and refuse to go 

To regions of eternal snow. 

Who '11 be my Christmas gift ? Draw straws, 

Who'll be old Mrs. Santa Claus?" 



WORK MIXED WITH PLAY. 

(Spoken by pupil in first grade at a doll party given 
in honor of the presentation by the principal of a hand- 
made doll house to the school.) 

Each little child when six years old 

Must go to school and be enrolled, 

And then must study, year by year, 

To fit itself for life's career. 

This vexes most small girls and boys. 

They grieve to turn from games and toys 

To books and pictures, golden rule 

And all else that is meant by school. 

But educators of our day 

Have learned to mix school work with play. 

So now if study seems an ill 

It's like a sugar-coated pill. 

Or quinine stirred in syrup sweet, 

With loss of bitterness complete. 

Small children of our time and day 

First work awhile, and then we play. 

We read and draw, we write and spell, 

And learn to handle figures well. 

Between times, hop and jump, and skip. 

As if on picnic pleasure trip. 

When we do some stunts I call play, 

That's calesthenics, grown folks say. 

156 



From such pastime who would desist? 
What fun to kick and turn and twist ! 
So, call it by whatever name, 
We all enjoy it just the same. 
Our small girls need no longer sigh. 
It's school time now, sweet doll, good-by. 
But each can take her doll along 
Without one fear of blame or wrong. 
Our room now has a doll-house, and 
It's very cozy, swell and grand, 
With real porches, windows, doors, 
A painted roof and polished floors; 
With paper walls like flowers in bloom, 
And furniture for every room. 
We boys helped furnish it each day, 
Some more instruction I call play. 
This doll-house is a work of art, 
Our principal so kind at heart, 
Made it in spare hours after school, 
Love was his keenest, brightest tool, 
A true, warm love for children small, 
That makes him dearer to us all. 



WERE THE STARS AND FLOWERS JUST FLIRTING? 

I quietly strolled last evening. 

Long after the twilight hour. 
Each heavenly star seemed courting 

Some beautiful, earthly flower. 
How modestly blushed the blossoms. 

Winked boldly the stars above. 
I silently watched them, wondering 

If flirting or making love. 

Chorus. 

Were the stars and the flowers just flirting, 

Like innocent youth and miss. 
Did the flowers mean their sigh of fragrance 

And the stars each dewey kiss? 
When the stars winked down and the blossoms 

Blushed back at the stars above. 
Were the stars and the flowers just flirting, 

Or really making love? 

157 



II. 

Would radiant stars eternal, 

Frail blooms of one season wed? 
Each delicate summer blossom, 

Drear autumn leaves drooped and dead, 
If fickleness of some mortals 

Extends to the stars of night. 
Existence thus brief, more charming. 

Would make the rare blooms so bright. 

III. 

Then glittering star each summer 

Could wed a new flower wife, 
A luxury many mortals 

Would envy the stars through life. 
One glorious, brief, bright season. 

All kisses and honeymoon, 
Could possibly two companions 

Grow wearv of love so soon? 



WATCHING A CHANGE OF YEARS. 

Slowly, calmly, surely dying, 

Thus the old year is tonight, 
Some are singing, others sighing. 

Some hearts heavy, others light. 
It has proved a year of pleasure 

And great happiness to some. 
Bringing only bliss and treasure 

As the days would go and come; 
But a year of keenest anguish 

Unto others it has been. 
Causing them to mourn and languish 

Over loss, or over sin; 
Bringing only grief and sorrow 

As it fleeted on its way. 
Till they dreaded each tomorrow. 

Shuddered at each yesterday. 
But the old year now is dying. 

In a few hours will be dead ; 
Laughter mingles still with crying, 

Smiles still blend with tear-drops shed. 



158 



Swiftly, calmly, surely dawning. 

Is the new year grand and bright, 
While the old year's grave is yawning. 

New year's cradle rocks tonight. 
The same bells that toll so sadly, 

When the old year yields to death, 
Will next moment ring most gladly. 

As the new year breathes life's breath. 
If the old year brought but sadness. 

With the old year let it die. 
In the new year seek new gladness, 

Learn to smile and cease to sigh. 
Vanished time can profit never. 

It hath done all it can do, 
Future time may bless forever, 

And the golden present, too. 
Deeply, then, the old year bury 

In the great tomb of the past ; 
Hail the new year, blithe and merry. 

Fraught with promise, hold her fast, 
Down upon the new year beaming, 

Holy stars shine from above. 
Magic stars forever gleaming. 

Stars of faith and hope and love. 



WANDA. 



(Charming little daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Jake Bur- 
ton of Fairfield, Neb.) 

Little Wanda, eight years old. 
Radiant as real gold. 
Delicate as dainty flower, 
With a secret magic power 
Every heart to charm and win. 
Stranger both to grief and sin. 
Fairy form with angel face, 
Full of gladness, glee and grace. 
Let your life be brief or long, 
Live unscarred by sin and wrong, 
Keep, while future years unfold 
Radiant as real gold. 

159 



WORTH AND BEAUTY. 

(An acrostic, in memory of Miss Esther Olson, a na- 
tive of Lindsborg, Kan., and a present resident of Axtell, 
Kan.) 

Everything has worth and beauty, 

Special to itself alone, 
Tint and fragrance give the flowers 

Holy value all their own, 
Every happy bird is counted 

Rare for plumage or for song ; 
Mountain, cataract and ocean 

Are sublime because so strong. 
Radiance makes stars entrancing 

In the silent, mystic night 
And the sun that rules the daytime 

Owes its worth to heat and light. 
Loveliness of soul makes mortals 

Subjects fit for realms divine. 
Only this can live forever, 

Nothing else escapes decline. 




160 



